The Funeral
by Mere24
Summary: After Mr. Hale's death, Mr. Bell plans the funeral in Oxford. Margaret cannot bear not saying goodbye to her father, and must ask Mr. Thornton if he will allow her to accompany him to the funeral. Book Based for the most part.
1. Chapter 1

Margaret donned her veiled bonnet and turned to the large oval mirror standing in the corner of her little room. The image reflected was foreign, a mere figment of what she had seen a month ago. She touched her face to establish that the image mirrored her own actions and reassure herself that she was in fact flesh and blood. The dark crescents under her eyes told the world of her recent hardship if her mouth would not. She turned and took a seat on the edge of her bed as the act of dressing had weakened her far beyond her comprehension. The words of Mr. Bell rang within her. Margaret ran the events of the past few days through her mind until she could remember every syllable spoken by the dear man. Indeed, her father was to be laid to rest in Oxford and she had not the forethought to ask him to take her with him.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she felt a deep sorrow within her soul and wondered if it was possible for a person to simply run out of tears. She felt as if her family had been scattered to the ends of the earth. Her mother in Milton, Brother in Spain and now her father. What had she now? She was finally able to pinpoint the source of her deepest sorrow; Margaret Hale was loved by no one and belonged nowhere.

Margaret descended the staircase to her father's study, here she could still feel his presence. Lightly fingering the books on his shelves, she found those editions that he had most treasured. With an armful of her father's closest companions, she attempted to take comfort in his favorite chair. Margaret thought this the best way to drown out the loneliness, the deafening silence that surrounded her in this newfound prison of her mind.

Margaret was alarmed when she heard the clock strike noon. She was unaware as to the amount of time she had been sitting there, however looked down to see that not a cover to book had been opened nor a page turned. She stood and began to pace the floor, saddened at the idea of never saying goodbye to her father. Margaret had convinced her father to allow her to attend her mother's funeral, how could he expect any less of her at his own? She tried her hardest to think of alternatives, however, Margaret knew that her only hope was to plead her case to Mr. Thornton.

The closer she came to Milton, the stronger her sense of dependence became. Margaret was keenly aware that she would spend the rest of her life dependant on someone, how and who were yet to be determined. The thought of asking Mr. Thornton to escort her to Oxford was far less than ideal. She dreaded seeking help from a man who clearly thought so little of her, practically reviled her. This was a man that had done so much for her, for her family, and she was returning to add to the burden. She stood before the great green gate and summoned the courage to face Mr. Thornton, Margaret knew that she could never forgive herself if she did not at least make an effort.

Margaret was asked to wait in Mr. Thornton's office while he was located. She entered, and the door was swiftly closed behind her. Upon surveying the little office, she felt it to be a bit cold and somewhat uninviting. There were financial documents scattered upon the large desk, several bookcases lining the walls containing ledgers and other such business material. There was nothing personal in the office, nothing to make this quiet place a haven on a difficult day. There was a window on the left wall which Margaret found her way toward. She found herself entranced by the never ceasing motion down below. She watched for minutes on end trying to find some stillness among the room. This became the likeness of a game, her eyes scaled the entirety of the room from one end and slowly to the other only to return and begin again. She suddenly spotted a machine stop and exhaled an audible "Ah." An overseer quickly come to assist in the quick repair, the machine was up and running in less than a minute. Margaret was both thoroughly impressed with both the efficiency of the mill employees and herself for winning at her little diversion. It was the first time that she had truly allowed her mind to escape tragedy in a good long time. With a slight smile, Margaret began to continue her pursuit when she noticed a reflection in the window that she had previously been too occupied to see.

She slowly turned her head and was taken aback to see Mr. Thornton standing only inches behind her left shoulder trying to see what had captured his young guest's interests.

"Mr. Thornton-" Margaret blushed as if she had been caught in an unseemly act. She could not help but wonder how long he had been there.

Keeping his eyes on the scene below, Mr. Thornton simply asked, "What is it that has you so absorbed, Miss Hale?" Margaret shifted nervously at his nearness, however, was pleased be received by a gentle voice. She turned back toward the window.

"I had never imagined the inner workings of your mill to be so," she paused thinking, "uniformed, for lack of a better word. I suppose I have simply lost myself in the motion of it all. It has been quite soothing if you don't mind me saying." Margaret turned her head toward the tall form beside her.

"Not at all, Miss Hale." Mr. Thornton was pleased to hear a kind word from her regarding his work, and not to enter into a reprimand in one form or another. His eyes met hers and he said, "I was very sorry to hear of your father."

"Thank you." Margaret added with her eyes to the floor.

"Well, Miss Hale, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He spoke his sincere question with a sullen tone.

Margaret turned to face him and at feeling their closeness, Mr. Thornton motioned her to have a seat.

"I did not know if you had heard that father's" Margaret's voice caught for a brief moment, "funeral is in Oxford?"

Mr. Thornton walked to his desk and sat upon the ledge in front of the empty chair neighboring Margaret's.

"I am aware." Mr. Thornton's statement was followed by silence. He was facing forward, yet let his eyes drift to the lovely form that sat in his office. He wondered at her presence.

"I was wondering if, well, if you might be going. I am only asking because I was wondering, if you are going of course, I thought that I may be able to go with you." Margaret closed her eyes at the end of her clumsy request. She knew that she had no right to expect a kind response.

John Thornton was taken aback by the plea. Miss Hale had never asked anything of him, he had long wished to be of assistance to her in any way. He turned himself toward Margaret as to get a gauge on the manner of her request.

"I am planning of going." He returned in a half answer. Margaret opened her eyes and faced him, her face filled with raw emotion. He could not help but to stare at her with no inhibition. He, who knew her face better than he knew his own. Mr. Thornton had never seen an expression as unbridled and tender as the one that she now displayed, his soul began to stir as he realized that what he was facing was desperation.

"Mr. Thornton, I know that you despise me, in a way I despise myself, but please, I beg of you, take me with you." She could feel the well of tears about to slip from their quiver but Margaret did everything in her power to hold them back.

Mr. Thornton stood and faced the back wall, unable to face Miss Hale after her petition for fear of rushing to her and kissing away the tears that she has yet to shed. How could she possibly think that he despised her? He suddenly felt himself struggling to intake a breath, he would give his left arm to despise her.

"You may certainly accompany me." Mr. Thornton did not know what to expect from his reply, but after a long moment of silence, he turned around to ensure that she was still in his office. To his surprise, she had her arms folded on the edge of his desk with her head lying upon them. Her body was trembling and though she did not make a sound, it was apparent that she was weeping. He took a seat in the chair near her and began to place his hand on her back. When it was but mere inches from its destination, he stopped with a tremor and closed his eyes slowly pulling it back to his lap in a firm fist.

"Miss Hale?" He asked in a near whisper.

"I am so sorry," She sat up in an attempt to explain. He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and gave it to her in a manner that ensured contact upon her retrieval. She dried her tears with his simple cotton handkerchief, but it appeared to be of no use as more replaced those that she had wiped away. "I am so very sorry." She repeated once more.

"There is no reason to apologize for grieving Mar- Miss Hale. It is natural. You have lost so much in so short a time. I am happy to give you any little comfort that I may offer." He stopped but could not hesitate to add, "Please never hesitate to ask anything of me."

Mr. Thornton wanted nothing more than to hold Margaret, to touch her and to tell her that she need not suffer alone. Had things have been different between them over these past eighteen months, perhaps he could have comforted her, himself in turn. For now, all that he could do was silently allow his broken heart to watch her weep. Margaret looked to him and painted on a smile.

"Should I bring Dixon? When will we be leaving?" She thought that it would be best to iron out the details.

"I was planning to leave at 6 in the morning. I have already commissioned the horses. I am sorry that we cannot leave tonight, as I know that to be an inconvenient time." He paused, "Would it be easier for you if we were to leave tonight?" He asked, it would be difficult, but he could change his plans if she wished. He would do anything for a friend as good as Mr. Hale, he told himself.

"No, thank you, thank you ever so much. I will be here at that time." Miss Hale replied.

"I will have the carriage and meet you at your home, there is no reason for you to walk all this way at that hour. And Miss Hale, we may need to find lodging for tomorrow evening. I am planning to bring an overnight bag." He had not planned on staying the night, but felt that the trip may be taxing, and she may need the rest.

"Thank you again. I don't think that I will ever be able to fully express my gratitude towards you. I will leave you to your work." Margaret stood and walked toward the door. With her hand on the knob, she realized that she was still holding his handkerchief. Margaret turned and handed it toward him.

"Keep it. I think that you need it today more than I do." Mr. Thornton said. He was pleased that she did not argue. He met her eyes with a genial smile and held out his hand, praying that it would be accepted. Margaret allowed the corners of her mouth to lurch upwards very slightly and accepted his hand. With an amicable shake, and a slight bow of her head, Margaret wordlessly left his office.


	2. Departure

John Thornton sat in one of the stately wingback chairs that sat alongside the fire in his chamber. He had laid in bed for hours only to find that sleep was a fruitless endeavor on this bright night. The clock on his mantle quietly chimed twice causing a sensation of equal parts nervous anticipation and dread; he would see Miss Hale in a mere four hours. He stood to pace the floor. His bedroom window overlooked the mill yard, the drab scenery of which took him back to the business trip that he had only just returned from two days hence. On his journey back from Harve he could not resist taking a detour.

He had purchased a ticket to Helstone as if he were drawn to it by some natural force. It seemed that many of his actions in the past months had been driven by the same power. There was something beautiful and unsettling in the powerlessness that he had against these feelings that raged through his being. Mr. Thornton knew that he had no hope of claiming Miss Hale for his own, he had come to terms with it, he also knew that he would never love another as he loved her. He had never been anywhere like Helstone, much in the way that he had never met anyone quite like Margaret Hale. The greens were greener and colors more vibrant than any he had previously observed.

Though he did not understand why he had come, Mr. Thornton was glad that he had made the excursion. He walked near the old parsonage, where she had once resided, a smile came to his face to see children at their leisure. He thought of Margaret running these paths in years past. There was a hedgerow of vines that surrounded the property; hiding amongst the green, deep within, Mr. Thornton found the most unusual and beautiful rose that he had ever laid eyes on. The flower's petals were red near the center extending in a vibrant yellow. The way that they were almost hidden amongst the green vines as if they did not quite belong reminded him of Margaret. In Milton she was unusual, exotic even, she was nothing of the wilting flower or reserved beauty of the other women in the county. She was not afraid to stand in the face of adversity, she was brave and bold and unlike anything that he had ever known. His heart was lost to her. On the train ride home, Mr. Thornton had decided that loving her was enough. As he turned the rose in his fingers, he wondered why he could not control these feelings for her, or if his heart would continue to betray him. Despite the pain that she had caused, he had never, could never regret loving her.

Being brought back to the present by three chimes of the mantle clock, he decided to focus on what this day may bring. Mr. Thornton was pleased that, after all that had passed between them, that Miss Hale would ask him to take her to her father's funeral. He had loved Mr. Hale dearly as a friend, they spoke so easily with one another, and his loss was sorely felt. His thoughts returned to the train ride home and his encounter with Mr. Bell. They spoke of what might happen to her, Miss Hale had lost so much since she had come to Milton, but the thought of her leaving was almost too much to bear. He had admitted in Helstone that loving her was enough, but it was not. If she were to be taken away and married to one of these Lennoxes, how could he bear it?

Margaret lay in her bed staring at the moon. She had never noticed how large a full moon could seem on a cloudless night. There were so few nights, since their arrival in Milton, that she could see stars. As she stared at the grey sky, she realized that she had simply never looked hard enough. Margaret was not sure if the stars had been there all along, or if she was willing them to appear before her eyes. She was mystified. The longer she held her gaze, the more stars appeared. Smiling to herself she thought about how many things in Milton were not always as they seemed. She held tight to this new found knowledge like a jagged knife, knowing that it was far too late to make amends for all of the damage that she had caused.

The emptiness of the house seemed to suffocate her. Margaret was pleased when it was finally time to begin dressing for her trip. She had packed her bag the previous evening, and began skimming the contents of her wardrobe as if to be deciding on what to wear for the day. Knowing full well that she would wear the taffeta mourning dress that she had worn to her mother's funeral, Margaret spent a significant amount of time performing this ritual in order to feel as though she had some semblance of control left in her life. She startled at a knock and bid Dixon entrance.

"Good morning, Miss Margaret, Oh, I see that you are already up for the day," looking at the bag lying upon the bed, "and packed. I am glad of it, as this is such an early time for such a travel as this. I would have thought that in consideration of you, Mr. Thornton would have adjusted his traveling plans." Dixon replied while combing through Margaret's wavy hair.

"He offered, Dixon, I did not want to be any more of a burden on him than we already are." She replied. Dixon had made her opinion on Margaret's attendance at the funeral very clear the night before. Despite her objections, plans went on as Margaret had laid out, making it clear that she would hear no more on the subject.

"I am sure that he doesn't think of it as a burden. You know at your mother's funeral, he was very adamant that if you needed anything, we should let him know. I think that he will be more than happy-" Dixon was interrupted.

"He was at mother's funeral, why did I never see him, why did you not tell me?" Margaret demanded. Dixon was strangely glad to hear her voice raise as she had heard little over a whisper since the news of her father's passing.

"I am sorry Miss Margaret, I did not feel it was important, now stand up and let me lace you into your corset." Dixon stated.

Margaret became lost in thought as was best when being compacted into her undergarments. She wondered at Mr. Thornton attending her mother's funeral, and right after seeing her at Outwood station and their refusal of the carriage that he had offered. She had no mind now for delving into his reasons for not making his presence known, heaven knows the service was small enough. She told herself that Mr. Thornton was a wonderful friend to her father and that is the end of it.

As the two ladies waited in the downstairs sitting room, Dixon ran to the kitchen and returned with haste. Margaret began to pace in the hallway, hoping to quell the gulf of emotions that flooded her mind.

"Here you go ma'am, cleaned and pressed as you asked." She handed the handkerchief to Margaret, which her mistress quickly took from her with a smile.

Mr. Thornton arrived at the Hale residence well before day had broken and felt guilt at keeping to his original time. The door opened very quickly after ringing the bell and Mr. Thornton was greeted with a small smile, which was eagerly returned.

"May I get your bags?" He asked. She opened the door further to allow him in.

"Certainly, just these two, that is mine and that Dixon's" she said, pointing to the bags as she spoke. He hesitated only a moment before picking up the bags. As Mr. Thornton carried the bags to the carriage, he felt disappointed that Dixon would be riding with them. He certainly had no intentions of making any advances, however he rather relished the idea of traveling alone on such a trip. He wiped the notion from his mind, as it was only proper that Dixon come along, and offered his hand to the ladies. Margaret was in first in and sat on the large bench on the back side, once she was settled, Dixon followed and took the seat across from her mistress. Mr. Thornton entered and happily took a seat alongside Miss Hale, minding her dress.

They sat in silence for a while, there was no awkwardness, simply silence. Not long after they began moving, Mr. Thornton noticed Dixon fold her arms and lean her head back, no doubt in need of a nap. He looked at Margaret to see if she was beginning to drift as well, she was not. Her eyes were wide open, staring ahead with a deep intensity. He noticed the ark swell beneath her eyes and wondered if she had been sleeping. Everything about her seemed so vacant, devoid of emotion. She had lost her mother and father within such a short period of time, and he was certain that her father had mentioned a friend that had passed recently as well. He would not venture to call himself a friend to her, however, he had also pulled from her not long ago. He wondered if she had anyone to turn to.

"I am sorry for the early hour, Miss Hale." Mr. Thornton said in a low voice, so as to not disturb Dixon.

"No bother, I am only grateful that you were willing to take us." She looked at him frankly as she spoke these words.

"I should have pushed it later just the same, I wasn't thinking. I am certain that you could use your rest." He offered by way of an apology.

"It would have made no difference." She said, facing Dixon once more.

"You are not sleeping well then?" He asked slowly.

"No." Her reply was curt and let her companion know that she wished to discuss this no further. The truth was that Margaret had not had a good night of sleep since the seriousness of her mother's illness had come to light. It was not until the news of her father's death that Margaret became unable to sleep altogether. It had been three days and the weariness was eating away at her. Margaret felt bad for snapping at Mr. Thornton, she had been so cruel to him and even in his kindness she bit back.

After a long silence, Margaret looked back to him, "I am sorry, Mr. Thornton, it would seem that I am not fair to you at times."

Her statement caught him off guard. He did not know how to respond, or exactly what she meant. He looked at her, allowing their eyes to meet.

"You have been the one kindness that we have had here in Milton and I should not speak to you so. To answer your question, I have not slept in days. I miss my family dearly and have worried much about what is to come." She turned back once more, unable to hold his honest stare.

"You do not know where," Mr. Thornton began, but rephrased the question. "Do you not think that you will stay in Milton?" He had yet to take his eyes off of her, he wished for his heart to still as he waited for her reply.

"I do not see how I could now." Margaret's emotions were raw and she answered with honesty, without hesitation or nervousness.

Mr. Thornton looked forward once more, he wanted so badly to shake her and say, 'you do not see how? You could stay with me, you could marry me.'

"Do you know where you may go?" Closing his eyes, he could not help but add, "or with whom?" In an instant there were so many thoughts filtering through his mind and he was not certain that he wanted an answer.

"No." They sat in quiet for some time, Margaret's mind was now flooded with worries over her future, and sorrows of her past. "You are lucky Mr. Thornton." She said after some time, he turned to her not understanding her meaning. "You know where your home is. You know that you belong in Milton."

Margaret leaned her head against the back cushion and turned it toward him as if the strength required to hold her head upright had left her body with her last words. Her words were dry, emotionless. "I belong nowhere, to no one now. I suppose that I will be moving in with the Lennoxes." There was marked displeasure in her words

"The Lennoxes." Mr. Thornton repeated the name that he had heard only days before from Mr. Bell, identifying one of them, 'the cleaver Lennox' as possibly the man at Outwood Station. "Mr. Bell told me of them."

"Oh, I do not mean to sound ungracious, I should not speak to you in such a way."

"Please, do." He said with much haste. "I mean, you may speak as you wish, you need a friend to confide in at a time such as this." The carriage jostled as if it had landed upon some uneven ground causing Dixon to stir with a discontented groan.

"I suppose there is always Spain." She added with a slight sarcastic laugh. Dixon quickly cleared her throat.

"Mr. Thornton, do you know when we will be eating? Miss Margaret would not take any breakfast this morning and I am afraid that this journey may be over tiring her." Dixon said by means of interrupting the conversation. She looked intently at Margaret.

"We will not stop for a few hours yet, unless you need something-"

"I am not hungry." Margaret retorted in her icy demeanor. She did not know why the interruption vexed her so greatly, but the comment from Dixon seemed to bring her back to the present, the reality of their trip. Certainly the topic of conversation had not been a pleasant one, but there was something about speaking with Mr. Thornton in this way that soothed her. There was nothing awkward or argumentative in their words, she was simply speaking her mind.

"Just say the word and we will stop." He lowered his voice, "Mr. Bell told me that you have a brother." Those words stopped all conversation, which was not his intention. Margaret could not look at him. She wondered just how much Mr. Thornton knew of Fredrick, did he know about the mutiny, about his being here while their mother was dying, that he was the stranger at Outwood? She gave him a sidelong glance, wishing to see how much he actually knew. There was so much that she wished that she could tell him, but she did not know how to begin. Turning back to the window, she allowed the motion of the ride, the sound of hoofs and wheels to sweep over her in a wave of slumber.


	3. Oxford

Mr. Thornton awoke, taking a moment to regain his bearings and realize where he was. The first thing that he saw was Dixon, very much asleep, sitting across from him. He felt, rather than saw Margaret. She had drifted off, and her head was leaning comfortably on his shoulder. For a moment he thought that he should wake or move her for proprieties sake, that moment passed quickly. She had said that she had not slept for days, if for no other reason than that, he should allow her to sleep. There was another reason though, with the exception of the riot they had never been so close, had so much contact. He turned his head slightly, allowing himself to breath in her scent, he reveled in the weight of her head on his shoulder. He quietly pulled his watch out of his pocket and found that he had been asleep for quite a while, and that they should expect to be in Oxford within the hour.

He had never watched anyone sleep before, but he studied her intently. He had never allowed his eyes to linger on her, perfecting the ability to take in every detail with a momentary glance. He saw her supple lips, normally a deep pink, were very pale today, yet no less beautiful. They were slightly parted exposing a small white line of her teeth. On close examination, he saw that it was not only her lips, her entirety was pallid save the deep crescents below her eyes, which were dark and swollen. He glanced at Dixon, he hoped that Margaret could turn to her, that there was someone in her life that she could turn to, that she could pour her tears and sorrows upon. He selfishly wished to be that person, but more than that, only hoped her not to suffer alone. Closing his eyes, he spent the rest of the trip resting, with every turn or bump he worried that she may wake causing this momentary bliss to end.

The carriage came to a standstill causing Margaret to open her eyes and wonder why they had stopped moving. She realized very quickly that she was leaning on Mr. Thornton's shoulder, everything in her told her to move. She turned her head upward to see if he was sleeping. At the feel of her moving, he opened his eyes and looked down at her.

"I think that we are here." He whispered. She very slowly began to sit up, causing Mr. Thornton to silently curse that the trip had not been longer.

"I'm sorry, I did not realize that I was lying on you. I seem to have slept well, though." Margaret said, her volume mimicking his.

"It was no problem, I am only thankful that you were able to sleep for a few hours, I'm sure that you needed it." Their eyes met, sincerity behind both sets.

"Thank you." She told him, but before anything else could be spoken, Dixon woke and began on about how she was thankful that they were there, as it was a dreadful journey. She wondered aloud where exactly they were, and if they were to get lodging, when they could get some food in Miss Margaret, and who they should expect to run into. Mr. Thornton opened the carriage door, as he thought that would answer many of her questions. Helping the ladies out, he addresses Dixon.

"This is the hotel that Mr. Bell has recommended. Here we will have lunch and acquire rooms. As for whom we shall meet, that we may have to wait to find out." He asked the bellman to bring the bags in and the three were soon seated at a table for lunch. Conversation was not as easy as it had been in the carriage, most likely due to the reality of the impending funeral.

"How long do we have?" Margaret asked as they were finishing their meal.

"We need to be at the church in two hours, I will get a room for you and Dixon and allow you to rest if you wish." Margaret simply nodded. Mr. Thornton left and after returning with their room keys, he led them up to their rooms.

"This one is for you and Dixon," he motioned to the door directly across from the one that he had just claimed to be theirs, "I am just right here. If either of you need anything, please do not hesitate. Why don't you both get some rest and I will knock when it is time for us to leave."

Margaret laid on one of the two beds in the room, but no sleep came to her. She thought of waking on Mr. Thornton's shoulder earlier and felt herself blush slightly. He was such a good man, her father had always seen it, and despite how Margaret disliked him at first, he was the closest thing to a friend that her family had in Milton. Even after she so callously rejected him, he brought whatever comforts that he could to her mother. It was not until she was seen with Fred and lied to the police that he stopped coming to see her father. She never thought that she had enjoyed his visits, but once they were gone, she missed them dearly.

Dixon broke Margaret's concentration asking if she could help her get ready. Traveling had loosened the chignon, and it needed a few extra pins. Realizing that a simple adjustment would not, Dixon decided that it would be best to take it all down.

Crossing the hall, Mr. Thornton knocked on her door. Dixon quickly left her mistress in front of the mirror and let him into their sitting area. He could see Margaret at a vanity on the other side of the room her dark hair loose and long. His pulse sped. He watched Dixon return and brush it out, then make quick work of putting it back to the way that he was accustomed to seeing her. After placing her bonnet, Margaret walked over to meet him.

"Are you ready?" He asked as he stood. Leading her to the door and he noticed that Dixon was not following them. "Are you not to accompany us, Dixon?"

"I will be staying here, sir, you know, ladies generally do not attend." Based on her tone, he thought that she was really saying that Margaret should not be attending.

"We will see you this evening, Dixon." Margaret said as they left the room. She took his arm as he led her to the carriage. After helping her in, he gave the driver instructions and joined her.

"Did you rest?" He asked as he took the seat next to her once more. He knew that he should take the other bench, but followed his selfish desires and made no apologies.

"I tried, it did not take." Margaret sighed. "I wish that I had asked Mr. Bell to hold the funeral in Milton." She saw the questioning look come over him. Her voice was trembling. "It is just, if I leave Milton, Mother will be there all alone. There will be no one to visit her. Father should be with her." Mr. Thornton placed his hand over hers.

"I will visit her, she will not be forgotten, I promise you." Margaret turned to him, offering some semblance of a smile. The feeling of his hand on her was a warm comfort, she was afraid to make a move for fear that he would remember that it was there and take it away.

"Mother and Father married for love, you may know. She was from a very wealthy family, the Beresfords. She defied her family to follow her heart. It's sad really, despite choosing her path, she did live with some regret. You see, she was raised with everything that she could have wanted. She was in London society, surrounded by balls, palaces and fine things. I am afraid that when she married Papa and moved to Helstone it was too much of a change. She traded society for open air, a life of plenty for one of sacrifice and altruism. Then we left there for Milton, it was like another planet." She offered a little smile. He took no offence. "Despite love, she found herself wanting." Margaret paused as if in deep thought.

"I am only afraid that when I go to London, I will be left wanting. I am used to governing my own time, traveling the streets alone, and keeping only to the society that I wish. I love my aunt and cousin dearly, but I despise the idle chatter, the inane topics of discussion, and the continual callings." She looked at him again. "I am sorry, I am being horribly discourteous once more. You needn't be bothered with all of these arbitrary thoughts."

"No, I want you to feel free to talk to me about whatever you wish." He noted that she had never pulled her hand from his. His eyes were drowning in hers. He wanted to ask her what would make her happy, if there was any way that he could. He would do anything to make her happiness, even if he was not part of it. The carriage stopped suddenly and they saw the church through the window. He squeezed her hand before removing his, stepped out of the carriage and helped her down. There was a small gathering of men outside of the chapel, Margaret took Mr. Thornton's arm and began to point out those that she recognized.

"There is Mr. Bell of course," as she pointed him out, as if on cue, he turned to her and began walking in their direction. "There is Captain Lennox, which is Edith's husband, and Henry, Captain Lennox's brother." Mr. Thornton knew immediately who the clever Lennox was, he might also call him the handsome Lennox. He was acutely aware that Margaret had referred to him as simply 'Henry.' Mr. Bell met them, shared a greeting and listened as Margaret gave a brief explanation of how she had asked Mr. Thornton to bring her.

"That was good of you, Thronton. Might I take her off your hands?" He knew that this was not really a question, and it was the last thing in the world that he wished to do, but he handed Margaret off to Mr. Bell without question. They walked up to the church and Mr. Thornton watched as Margaret greeted both Lennoxes, trying to ascertain the nature of their relationship. Margaret's eyes turned to meet his and she motioned for him to join her.

"Mr. Thornton, this is Captain Lennox. I have told Edith about you in some of my letters, I am not sure as to what she may have shared." Mr. Thornton was immediately concerned with what exactly this Captain Lennox could know about his past with Margaret. "This is Henry." Though she had said it before, hearing her informality toward this well dressed Londoner was excruciating. Mr. Thornton shared the necessary formalities with both men.

"It was good of you to bring our Margaret with you Mr. Thornton. She has always had a mind of her own, as you may know, and when she puts that mind to do anything," he stared intently at her, "or not do something as the case may be," looking back to the men, he finished, "it will be as she has willed it." Margaret looked toward the ground when he said this. Mr. Thornton did not quite understanding his meaning, but knew that there was something behind his words that made Margaret uncomfortable.

"She needed to say goodbye to her father." This was all that Mr. Thornton could bring himself to say. Henry looked at him for a moment, then turned back to Margaret.

"When will you be joining us in London?" Henry asked Margaret. All eyes were on her as she took her time to formulate a response.

"I do not know that it is settled that I will be going to London just yet, Henry." Margaret replied, placing a tiny spark of hope in Mr. Thornton's heart. Before anything else could be spoken they were asked to go in and be seated. Margaret was between Henry and Mr. Bell, Mr. Thornton took the pew behind them with some of Mr. Hale's friends from Oxford and Helstone. There were many more in attendance today than there were at a similar service just over a month ago.

Margaret held her composure throughout the service. Tears rolled down her face, but she did not utter a sound. The handkerchief that Dixon had cleaned and pressed was in her little purse. She had every intention of giving it back to him today, but needed it now. Surely it could be cleaned and pressed once more. Margaret thought over the fond memories that she had of her father, she tried to remember a time that they were all happy, all together, but she could not conjure one up. She could only think of Fred and wish that he were here. He would hold her, cry with her. She would not have to wait until she was alone in her room, wrapping her own arms around her middle to alleviate the suffocating loneliness.

Mr. Thornton watched Margaret. She was so strong, he saw the tears stream from her face, they were the only outward sign of the desperate sorrow that she felt. When he saw her pull out a handkerchief he was almost certain that it was the one that he had given her only the day before. On closer inspection he spied the capital 'JT' in the corner that his mother had skillfully embroidered. He was glad that he was able to offer some assistance, if only in this small way. He listened to the words of the minister, words of clinging to family and close friends, of belonging. He wondered what Margaret was thinking, given their conversations on this day.

When the service ended, they congregated outside once more. Margaret was on the arm of Henry, and asked him to join Mr. Thornton and Mr. Bell. Captain Lennox saw a familiar face and was called away from their party.

"Have you received word from Fredrick? Is he safe in Spain?" Henry asked. Margaret quickly looked from Henry to the other two gentleman who knew nothing of Fredrick's visit. She realized that this may be the opportunity to let Mr. Thornton know the truth. There could be no harm in it now.

"Yes, Henry, he is safely back in Cadiz. You see," turning to explain to the other gentleman, "when mother was very ill I wrote to Fred and asked him to come. He did do so, but was spotted by a man that wished to turn him in for a reward of some size. The man's name was Leonards." She looked directly at Mr. Thornton as she told them this. "Father urged Fred to go that night and I took him to Outwood Station to board the train. Leonards was there and a fight ensued causing him to fall off of the train platform. I urged Fred on the train, Leonards was gone from the platform before I left, I made sure of it." She saw an understanding in Mr. Thornton's face. "You see, we could not tell anyone until we were sure that he was safe, which we are—I am rather, now."

Mr. Thornton felt that the revelation lifted a weight from his chest that he did not know existed. He had known that there would be a reasonable explanation, and only wished that she had told him sooner. This knowledge made his love for her unhindered, yet in reality, it changed little. Margaret had still refused him, she was still most likely leaving. His ears were alarmed at Margaret's next statement.

"Henry has been kind enough to help us try to clear Fredrick's name." Margaret turned to Henry with as much of a smile as she could muster.

"I am happy to be of service to you, Margaret, in any way." Henry added. His words made Mr. Thornton's eyes narrow, Lennox seemed a good fellow, there was nothing to dislike about him for sure, but reasonable or not, John Thornton loathed Henry Lennox.

Mr. Bell asked the small party to join him at the hotel for tea, which he had already arranged.

"Margaret, would you allow me to escort you to the hotel?" Henry asked.

Margaret looked between the two men, feeling that it would be rude not to accept Henry's offer, but not wishing to leave Mr. Thornton—she looked at him. "Would that be alright?" There was only one way that he could answer her question. He assented and Mr. Bell decided to accompany Thornton to the hotel.


	4. Jealousies

After Mr. Bell joined Thornton in the carriage, he noticed that his travel companion had yet to take his eyes off of something through the window. He watched as Mr. Thornton's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. Upon closer examination, Mr. Bell noticed that the object that warranted so much attention was his Goddaughter. Mr. Bell sat back against the bench with a satisfied look overtaking his countenance. He had been correct in his assumptions after all. Bell only wished that Richard had been around to share his bit of gossip. As was Mr. Bell's wont, he began to pry.

"It was good of you to bring Margaret today, Thornton." Mr. Thornton did not take his eyes from the window. Neither did her respond. The carriage in front of theirs began to move, and soon theirs was close in tow. With nothing left to watch, he turned his attentions to Mr. Bell.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Mr. Thornton asked. Mr. Bell gave him a knowing smile.

"I said that it was good of you to bring Margaret with you, did the two of you travel alone?" Mr. Thornton's demeanor did not shift.

"No, we brought Dixon with us, she is in one of the rooms at the hotel. It was my pleasure to bring Miss Hale. Her father was a very good friend to me." Mr. Bell did not wish to go into sentimentalities. He mourned his friend dearly. Right now what he needed was something to take his mind off of the sad state of things.

"Margaret and that Lennox make a fine pair." For a moment, Mr. Bell thought that he saw some slight change in Mr. Thornton's face, but he was a highly unreadable man. Mr. Thornton's heart ached at Mr. Bell's words.

"What do you know of Lennox?" Thornton asked while staring out the window once more, afraid that the stone in his face would crumble if given the wrong information.

"I think that he is a fine fellow, a lawyer, as you know, and every bit the gentleman." Mr. Bell pushed just a little further. "He would be a fine match for our Margaret, don't you think Thornton? I'm certain that the aunt would approve." Everything within Mr. Thornton seemed to erupt. The man that she had chosen to ride with, that she was on first name terms with, that was from her world—that man was much more deserving of her than he. He was a gentleman, a lawyer, lived amongst fine society, he could give her the life that she deserved, one that she could never have in Milton living next to a cotton mill. Desperation struck his heart. He wished that he had never learned of Fredrick, before he could have hardened his heart against these words by bringing the incident at Outwood to mind and convince himself that she was not all that he made her out to be. No! Now he had to go on knowing that this woman that he loved with his entire being was the pure, bold, intelligent woman that he had always known her to be, and that he would never have of her.

"Does Margaret—has she—do you think that Miss Hale feels as you say?" Mr. Bell had never heard anything but iron confidence from the man that sat across from him. He knew that he had finally found Thornton's weakness and relented.

"Not particularly, no." Mr. Thornton turned to face him, but he did not know how to respond, his thoughts were not in alignment with Mr. Bell's statement and he did not know what to make of it. The remainder of the short trip was spent in a thought-filled silence.

Margaret was escorted to the carriage by Henry, but her every thought was on the man that had just left them. She did not know what to expect from her revelation of Fredrick's visit, but she wished for a time that she could fully explain it to him. She felt that he understood and told herself that the important thing was that his good opinion of her had been restored. Somewhere deep inside of herself, she knew that that was not truly the important thing, but she could not dwell on what had been done.

There was a problem with their carriage causing a delay. Captain Lennox was speaking to the driver and attempting to remedy the situation, leaving Henry alone to speak with Margaret. Margaret thought that she could see Mr. Thornton and Mr. Bell through the window of the other carriage, but could not be certain.

"How are you fairing in Milton? This winter air alone must make you wish to return south." Henry spoke casually, breaking Margaret's examination of the other carriage.

"The weather is fierce in the north." She replied absently.

"When do you think that you will be joining us in London?" Margaret looked at him. He had begun on this vein previously, and she did not wish to have the conversation now.

"I have told you, Henry, I am not certain that I will be returning."

"Well, certainly you will have to." He looked at her aghast. "I know that there can be little money left to sustain you, much less Dixon. The people in that town are not like you, Margaret, you belong in London. What reason could you possibly have for wanting to stay in Milton?" Henry asked the question as if it was the most ludicrous thing that could ever cross her mind.

"Thank you for reminding me of my current situation." She responded in a cold manner. They did argue at times, but not in the same manner that she had argued with Mr. Thornton. Henry did not have the same skill set that Mr. Thornton had for hitting Margaret's core. Her arguments with Henry were also never over anything important and, unlike Mr. Thornton, she had always felt that Henry was quick to write her off or concede on account of her sex. She felt inferior when speaking to him. Rather than asking what she wanted, he all but laughed her suggestions off as impossible and tried to steer her back to what he felt was best for her. Henry was a good man, a good friend, and he would make someone gloriously happy some day. Margaret knew that that someone could not be her.

Henry placed a hand over her folded arms. "Margaret, I did not mean to vex you." She stood still and did not respond. Captain Lennox and the driver came to an understanding and the three climbed into the carriage. They sat in a tense silence for some time.

"I think that I need to speak to that Mr. Thornton of yours about cotton. I have been reading about the money to be made in it. They say that manufacturing is the future." Captain Lennox broke the quiet that surrounded the little compartment.

"I think that he would like that very much." Margaret smiled at the thought of Mr. Thornton sharing some of himself with her London friends and family. Henry watched her carefully.

"How do you know Mr. Thornton, Margaret?" Henry asked, keeping his eye on her.

"He studied several times a week with Father, I would attend on occasion. When Mother was sick, he often brought her fruit, or anything that he thought that she might enjoy. I might say that he is our closest friend in Milton." Margaret looked out of the windows wistfully. "Father cared for him very much." Henry had not perceived Mr. Thornton as a threat until now. He wondered if that man, that manufacturer, could be the reason that she seemed set against returning to London.

Everyone gathered in the tea room, from which Margaret excused herself to find Dixon. When she unlocked the door, she found Dixon sitting in her bed reading. Margaret sat on the edge of the bed and shared the details of the service.

"Mr. Bell had attended to every detail, I am certain that I could not have done it justice. Father's favorite hymns were played, the Pastor, who remembered him from years before, spoke of how important family was to him. It was nice. It was the truth. The flowers were beautiful, and there were so many of them." Margaret removed her bonnet, and placing it in her lap she looked up at Dixon, who was the closest thing that she had to family right now. "I wish that we had held the service in Milton, then they could be together."

"Don't you fret Miss Margaret, the real shame is that your mother had to go to Milton at all, we would not be in this state of things if we were not made to go to that dirty town. Now we'll talk no more of sadness." Dixon stood up. Margaret looked down at her hands, she felt the urge to cry but could not here, not in this room.

"We need to go down to tea. Mr. Thornton, Mr. Bell and the Lennoxes are waiting on us." Dixon took Margaret's bonnet and urged her up.

"Well, we had best not keep them waiting. Is Mr. Henry Lennox amongst them?" Dixon asked, but continued without waiting for an answer. "Your mother, God rest her soul, told me once that he had a fancy for you. It would have made her so happy to see you restored into London society."

"We had best not keep them waiting." Margaret was numb. After the funeral and the conversation with Henry, Dixon telling her of her mother's wishes in this way was simply too much. She was not ready be confronted by more of it and hoped that she would be able to sit and quietly listen when they joined the men. Margaret reluctantly followed Dixon and they joined their party in the hotel's formal drawing room.

There was a settee that appeared to be reserved for her, right in front of the fire. As Margaret and Dixon approached the small crown, they stood to greet them. Dixon gravitated to a chair that was close enough to hear, but far enough as to not be drawn into the conversation. They took their seats and Margaret listened to the men attempt to lighten their exchange as a result of her entrance. The tea tray arrived and Margaret was more than happy to have something to keep her hands occupied.

She did not know what the topic of their previous conversation may have been, however, the way that they were attempting to cater the conversation to her was very frustrating.

"Please, let us go back to what you were speaking of. I am sure that if I must go live with Aunt Shaw that I will be filled to the brim with conversations of lace and silks and balls and such. Let us speak of something else." She paused, but no one took the floor. "Mr. Thornton, Captain Lennox was saying on the ride over here that he wished to speak to you about manufacturing." Mr. Thornton smiled at her.

"What is it that you wish to know, Captain Lennox?" Mr. Thornton had to tear his eyes from Margaret.

"I hardly think that this is an appropriate conversation to hold in mixed company." Henry spoke up, "Margaret, do you truly wish to indulge Maxwell's curiosity of cotton trade?"

"I know our Margaret to be very clever and politically minded, especially as of late." Added Mr. Bell. "She had been very involved in Milton especially during the strike."

"I have certainly never known Miss Hale to shy away from any serious topic of conversation, and have found her to have very firm opinions on the matter." Mr. Thornton said looking toward Margaret. Henry looked toward Mr. Thornton and wondered just how well he did know her.

"I am interested, Henry, and as Mr. Thornton suggests, I have never been afraid to voice my opinion." Margaret looked to Henry. "I do have to admit that most of my interest lies in the social aspect, rather than the actual manufacturing, but I have found them to be inseparable." Mr. Thornton leaned in and watched Margaret speak with a slight smirk that he did not know himself to be wearing.

"I am certain that you have done the working class a world of good. You have always been generous by nature." Henry said.

"I have learned much from the men. I have in fact become very good friends with a few of them. I found that my sympathies were with them alone when we first moved to Milton, I was prejudiced against manufacturing as a whole and must admit that I had a particular dislike of the masters." Mr. Thornton leaned back in his seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "After some time, and several heated discussions, Mr. Thornton helped me to see things from a manufacturer's point of view as well." Mr. Bell could not help but to watch Thornton.

"And your _particular dislike_ of the Masters?" Margaret turned her full attention to Mr. Thornton as he asked this. She thought it interesting that he never shied away from confrontation, despite the surroundings, especially with her it seemed.

"I have particularly softened to them, some of them, especially as of late." Mr. Bell and Henry watched the visual exchange between Margaret and Mr. Thornton, and both felt very different reactions to it.

"Which side do you sympathize with now, after Mr. Thornton's revelation?" Henry asked, needing to displace her attention.

"Well neither, or both rather, but for very different reasons." Margaret did not wish to delve too deeply into the topic of master and men. She knew that those around her would hold the same prejudices that she had when she arrived in Milton. She wanted them to know Mr. Thornton as her father knew him, as she knew him now. She turned to the Captain. "Captain Lennox, this discussion is not answering any of your questions, I am sure, and you have little time left to talk. Why don't you ask Mr. Thornton your questions?"

As Captain Lennox and Mr. Thornton began discussing the ins and outs of the cotton industry, Henry could not help but wonder what reasons Margaret might have for sympathizing with the manufacturers. He felt that it may have everything to do with the ever attentive Mr. Thornton. Henry thought that it would be best to get back to London tonight and urge Mrs. Shaw to collect Margaret as soon as possible.


	5. Evening

**A/N: I found several typos in the previous chapters and have updated them, but I realized that I deleted all of the author's notes. Hopefully it is enough to put it here, these characters belong to Elizabeth Gaskell, I am only lovingly borrowing them. **

**I meant to get this out last night, but had an area of conversation that needed revisiting. I will have the next chapter up as soon as possible, most likely tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has reviewed, they are greatly appreciated.**

The party was in the drawing room well past tea time, and decided to stay through dinner. To Margaret, the food was tasteless, she spent most of the dinner hour pushing it around on her plate. No one took note except Mr. Thornton.

"Well, Margaret, I dare say that Edith has been very anxious to see you." Captain Lennox addressed Margaret, who had sat in silence throughout dinner.

"I cannot believe that I have not seen her since your wedding. Oh, Mr. Bell, Mr. Thornton, you should have seen their wedding. I am certain that it was the finest that London has ever seen."

"It was quite the affair," Henry's piercing eyes were directed at Margaret. "I believe that I recall your telling me of an ideal wedding quite different from the one that we were attending." If there had been a hint of color in Margaret's face, it disappeared. She distinctly noted Mr. Bell and Mr. Thornton's eyes questioning her. There was a stillness at the table as Margaret waited for thoughts to sift back into her mind. She was obviously shaken by the comment.

"I helped Edith with many things during the wedding, we were all very busy. When Henry asked what I should do for my own affair, I described something much simpler." She said by way of an explanation. No one sitting at the table, not even Dixon, knew about the events that that conversation eventually led to, but just the same, she was overwhelmed with feelings of shame and embarrassment.

"I still think the idea of stately simplicity to be very fitting for you, Margaret." Henry continued his previous thoughts, his eyes had never left her. Margaret felt as if she were drowning, and did not know how to respond. Mr. Thornton saw that she was uncomfortable and that there was a need to somehow derail the conversation, but was certain that _his_ speaking anywhere near the topic of weddings would only further her discomfort.

"Margaret, are you staying in Oxford for the night? I would love to meet you in the morning for breakfast." Margaret turned to her Godfather, relief flooded her eyes as if giving a silent 'thank you.'

"Yes, Dixon already has our room made up. Mr. Thornton, would it do to meet Mr. Bell in the morning?" Mr. Thornton had to clear his throat before any words could be produced. The last conversation seemed to have unnerved him more than he had realized.

"Of course. I would like to leave by 10, in order to get a few hours of work in tomorrow evening."

The conversation continued for only a few minutes more. The Lennoxes were the first to leave, Henry claimed that they had not initially planned to travel tonight, but they had an important errand and needed to return to London. Mr. Bell decided to stay and spoke with Margaret and Mr. Thornton for quite some time. Most of the conversation centered around memories of her father. This topic delivered her from the shock of the last one. Margaret enjoyed Mr. Bell's tales of the Oxford years. She was particularly interested in her father's reaction to first seeing her mother, which he shared in some detail. The sun had long since set, but Margaret was not ready for this companionship to end.

"Well, Margaret, Thornton, I will be joining you early for breakfast before your journey." Mr. Bell said, suggesting that he should be leaving.

"We should all be getting to bed ourselves." Mr. Thornton glanced back at Dixon, who had remained the silent observer throughout the entire evening.

"Mr. Thornton, could we please stay here for a while? I know that I would just lie awake if I were to go to bed now." Mr. Thornton was tired, but quickly agreed. Dixon stood and walked between them, she did not want to give Margaret any opportunity to form a tie to the town that she was so desperate to flee.

"I think that it would be best for you to come to bed Miss Margaret. We have a long ride tomorrow, and you will be needing your rest for sure." Dixon could be a force to be reckoned with, but Mr. Bell was always up for a challenge.

"Ah, but Miss Dixon, Margaret has said that if she were to go to bed that there would be no rest to be had." Dixon looked quickly between Mr. Bell and Margaret.

"Perhaps not sir, but she should go to bed just the same."

"Why don't you take yourself to bed Dixon, surely our Margaret will be safe in the hands of Mr. Thornton." Dixon began to protest, those were precisely the hands that she did not wish her mistress to occupy, but she was quickly cut short by Mr. Bell. "I will hear no arguments, your mistress needs a kind ear tonight, no doubt there is much on her mind." Dixon sighed, but met them with no more contention.

"I will be to bed Miss Margaret, but you should be coming in soon yourself." Dixon added but not before giving a sharp look to both Margaret and Mr. Thornton. She turned and took herself back to the room, grumbling the whole way about how they could not get to London soon enough.

Mr. Thornton and Margaret walked Mr. Bell out of the hotel. Margaret gladly received a heartfelt embrace and fatherly kiss from the older man and they parted ways. Mr. Thornton turned to walk back inside.

"Would you mind terribly if we sat out here?" She motioned toward a bench very near the hotel and well lit by the surrounding lanterns.

"Not at all," he followed her and sat after she was settled.

"I'm sorry about Dixon."

"She means well, I'm sure." He was looking at her with an uninhibited stare.

She looked at the ground. "She doesn't understand me at all really. I think that her main concern right now is getting me to London." They sat under the night sky, Mr. Thornton watched Margaret as she took in the constellations above. He felt so close to her here, and had over these past two days. He could not help but think that they were not the same people, or that they had changed somehow. He followed her gaze and soon fixed his eyes upon a crystal clear sky.

"I have never seen a night like this. You don't see stars in Milton." Margaret remembered thinking the same thing only the night before and could not help but to let out a little laugh. "What is it?" He looked back at her to see what was so amusing.

"You're wrong." She said, only happy enough to declare him as such.

"How so?" He looked slightly affronted, but was very interested in her train of thought. This seemed to be the lightest subject that they had ever breached.

"Well, I was unable to sleep last night," she turned to watch him as she told her story. "I have long since complained about missing stars in Milton. You see, in Helstone, every night was like this one." She waved her hand through the air by way of an example. "It was very late, or possibly quite early depending on how you look at it. I was lying in bed and staring at the smoky sky. At first, I saw nothing, which is what I am usually faced with when I attempt to stargaze in Milton. Then, as I stared into the void, I began to see them. The longer and harder that I looked the more I started to see. It was quite mesmerizing really." Margaret turned back to the sky.

"I found that it was not Milton, it was me. I was not looking hard enough." She gave him a sidelong glance. "I have discovered that of most things in Milton. You cannot write anything off too early, nothing is as it appears at first." She hesitated, looking back into the night air. "Sometimes you have to give things a second chance." Mr. Thornton's heart was racing. He sat straight up on the bench and turned to fully face her.

"What are you saying?" He had to remind himself to breath. Margaret met his eyes, the intensity of his stare seemed to find its way to her very soul. She was not exactly sure what she was saying, or why she was saying it, she did not know why this day, this time with him had seemed so precious, why he seemed so different. She wondered why, of all men, she would seek Mr. Thornton for comfort. Though the answer was not readily apparent to her, something within her knew that she sought his comfort, because he so freely gave it.

"I do not know." Breathing began to be a laboring task, she pulled her eyes from his. "I think that I was—yes, I was speaking of stars." With an involuntary sigh, Mr. Thornton turned back to a more neutral position. Of course she was just speaking of stars. He cursed himself for trying to read more into everything when it came to Margaret.

"I still have your handkerchief." She blurted out, she needed to break the silence and this was the first thing that came to mind. Mr. Thornton just looked at this woman, who seemed so unlike herself tonight. Everything that he loved was embodied before him, but it was as if her guard was slowly drifting down, and she was allowing herself to let her vulnerabilities show. "I had Dixon clean and press it for you. I did mean to give it back to you, but then at the funeral I-," she sighed and looked up at him. "Thank you, by the way. I needed to be here." He wanted to tell her how much he needed her here as well.

"Thank you for telling me about Fredrick." He stared at her intently. "You could have trusted me with it, but I understand why you did not."

"You did really think badly of me didn't you? That I was doing something disgraceful?" She was not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"I wanted to, but I could not." She was confused. "I told myself that there was someone—no, I knew that there was a good explanation, is what I mean. I was hurt that you would not share it with me, I really needed to hear it." He did not know what more he could add. He watched to gauge her reaction. "Mr. Bell thought that it could have been Henry." Margaret looked at him in innocent confusion.

"What an absurd idea, why would I need to walk Henry to a train late at night?" She let out a little laugh at the thought of it. Mr. Thornton realized that she had not the smallest morsel of an idea of the jealousy that he felt toward Henry Lennox.

"I wouldn't know." They did not say anymore on the subject.

"Mr. Thornton?" She waited for an acknowledgement and continued. "I think that you have learned much about me today, tell me something about you. Not about you as a Master, I mean. I want to learn something about _you_." He looked at her with a soft gaze. He had never been asked something like this and had no idea what she might be looking for.

"Well, I am afraid that I would have little of interest to share, what would you like to know?"

"I doubt that," Margaret looked pensive for a while. "What do you do for leisure?"

"That one is easy enough, I take lessons with your father." He looked down knowing that that would happen no more, but he did not say anything to Margaret, she needed a light conversation tonight.

"No, I need something more than that. What did you do before the lessons, before we came?" She waited as he agonized over this question. Most of his thoughts were of how different his life was before she came into it.

"Well, I think that the question of leisure is really a question of what one does in their spare time, of which, I have very little." Margaret gave him an exaggerated sigh. "I feel that I am answering your question as best I can," he was a bit defensive. "Most evenings, I go over ledgers or address my business correspondence, I don't suppose that counts as leisure do you Miss Hale?" She laughed heartily, it was music to his ears, and caused a boyish smile to erupt on his face.

"You treat this as if it were some great philosophical question. I am only asking about what gives you pleasure, what would you enjoy doing every evening while your mother is embroidering handkerchiefs and your sister is, I don't know, playing her piano? If you could have anything that you wanted and had all of the time in the world what would you do?" Her eyes were wide and her words flowed with such ease. He gave her the faintest hint of a smile and thought against saying the first thought that came to mind, but it was out of his mouth before he could fully protest.

"I think that I would do this." Margaret felt that she did not fully understand his meaning, but a violent blush came to her cheeks just the same. Mr. Thornton felt more and more of his defenses crumble the longer they sat together.

"This has been a lovely way to spend an evening, especially on such a dreadful day." She sighed. "Let me think on another question," she paused, not wanting to return to sadness, she was enjoying the light-heartedness far too much. "I know, have you traveled?"

"Only for business. Some very nice places, but I was never able to enjoy them, I always had to be back quickly." He thought of telling her about visiting Helstone, but did not know how he would explain it. "What about yourself?"

"I have only been to London, Helstone and Milton, and now Oxford, I suppose. Aunt Shaw travels all over the empire, and Edith and Captain Lennox went to Corfu on their wedding holiday, could you imagine Greece? I have only heard bits of it through her letters, but it all sounded very romantic. If I were to travel anywhere, I am sure that it would be to Spain. Fred made it sound like a beautiful place to visit, but really it would be to see him, I miss him dearly." Margaret could not help but have a heavy heart, as she knew that Fredrick would not yet have even received word of their father's passing.

"I am sure that he misses you, as well." He hesitated. "I do not know how you managed to keep him a secret." Margaret exhaled a deep, labored breath. She had risked so much in writing that letter.

"I'm afraid that I would do it all over again if I had to. It was my mother's dying wish to see him once more. I had to do what I could." Pausing, she continued. "Father never knew about the incident at the station that night." She looked to him for understanding. "I could not tell the truth to that Police-Inspector. I sent Fredrick to London to meet with Henry, and I did not know if he had made it out of the country when I was interviewed. If he were to be captured, he would be hanged. His letter came the next day, but at that point everything had been done." She looked at the floor, there was anger behind a few slowly shed tears. "I sacrificed much for him, but I would risk it all again if I had to. I just love him too much."

"You are a very good sister. It would seem that you have had too much put upon you in these past two months. I am sorry to have added to that." He wished that he could take back the selfish, very untrue words that no doubt added to her isolation.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, not after everything that you have done." Margaret found that their conversation had turned serious rather quickly. "May I ask you one more question?"

"Anything."

"Why did you protect me from the inquest? You put yourself in great jeopardy." Margaret's eyes were set on his face. This time he was able to keep the first thing that came to his mind at bay, otherwise he would have said, 'because there is nothing in my power that I would not do for you.' To use her words, he just loved her too much, and as she would for Fredrick, he would risk it all again if it meant protecting her. He cared more for her well being than anything in the world. He would stand trial in her place if necessary, even knowing that she would never love him in return. He could not tell her any of these things, and there was nothing that he could say to her that would suffice. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. Margaret could see the turmoil brewing within him, and only wished that he would share it.

"It's getting late Miss Hale, we should both be getting to bed." He offered his hand to help her off of the bench.

"You will not tell me then?" He looked at her, and knew that the rest of his careful façade would risk crumbling as well if he did not leave her soon.

"I'm sorry, Margaret, I cannot." His voice cracked. She did not know why the conversation had ended so abruptly, nor the reason that he would not answer her question. She did, however, hear her name leave his mouth for the first time since they had met. This had proved to be a very confusing evening. She took his proffered arm and they walked back into the hotel silently. Once on their corridor, neither made a move to leave the other and go into their room.

"I wanted to tell you," she glanced down, but only for a moment, "I have really enjoyed you today. You have been my bit of peace through all of this chaos." She offered her hand to him, which he quickly took within both of his own. They bid one another goodnight.

Margaret tiptoed into her room, the quiet snore that Dixon exhaled was a comfort in that she would know if she had awoken. Margaret hastily undressed, and not knowing where anything was placed, and not wishing to wake Dixon in the search, she decided to just sleep in the chemise that she had been wearing under her many layers of clothing. As she slid under the covers, Margaret thought about Mr. Thornton. She had desperately wanted to restore herself in his esteem, and was certain that she had. Staring at the dark ceiling, she knew that she wanted more, but how much more she could not answer.

Mr. Thornton watched Margaret walk into her room, and only when the door was fully closed did he enter his own. Once in he leaned his back against the door and replayed snippets of today's conversations over and over again through his mind. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he told himself to stop analyzing everything that she had said. He also told himself that she was grieving and only looking for someone to help her through it. He told himself to be happy with what she was offering him, a closeness that had never before existed. He told himself that this was enough—he knew that to be a lie.


	6. Conflict

**A/N: I have a little more of the miniseries slipping in from here on out, I waffle back and forth a little bit, I'm afraid. Apology, I have been spelling Frederick incorrectly, I will go back and correct it in time, but I am trying to iron the rest of this tale out first! Let me know what you think if you have a minute. N&S: Not mine.**

Mr. Thornton awoke after a restless night. Nothing had kept him from a good night of sleep before Margaret unknowingly forced herself into his heart. He thought over some of the struggles that he had faced in his life, major challenges. None of them had ever caused him to lose a wink of sleep. He realized that all of those trials had one thing in common: he knew that he could overcome them through honesty, sacrifice and a great deal of hard work. He worked for everything that he had ever achieved in his life, position, respect, even power. Therein lay the problem—He did not know if it was possible to work to attain another's love, or how one would go about it if it were. All that he knew was that there was nothing in his life that he wanted more.

He wondered what it would be like to not wake up in an empty bed, to have her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest, the sunlight kissing her figure beckoning them to awake. Mr. Thornton quickly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He scrubbed his face with his hands, as if attempting to erase these thoughts from his mind. It did not work.

He climbed out of bed and readied himself for a day of travel. After dressing and packing his bags he checked his pocket watch. Mr. Bell would not arrive for half an hour. Mr. Thornton wondered if it would be too early to wander across the hall. He reasoned with himself that it would only be polite to remind them of their breakfast plans. With that, he placed his bag by the door and crossed the hall.

Margaret was awake most of the night for a completely different reason then she had been for some time. She could not get Henry Lennox or Mr. Thornton off of her mind. She knew very well that London may be in her future, and several of Edith's letters had hinted at the favorable match that she and Henry would make. Margaret had written it off, knowing that she had told Henry that she would never share his feelings and she was sure that he had understood. Last night it became apparent that the words that she had spoken at Helstone had little effect on him. She did care for Henry, very much in fact. He was a wonderful man, but led too much by convention and civilities. She would be miserable trying to become the wife that his position would require. Moreover, she could no force her heart to bend to him. She had told him not to hope, and she meant it.

As her thoughts began to turn to Mr. Thornton, her lips began to turn slightly upward. Such a delightfully unexpected side was presented to her these past two days. She wondered how she had once only seen him as the stern Master of Marlborough Mills, whose sole ambition was building his business at the expense of the 'hands' that he employed. Yesterday she saw the man that he truly was, the man that she had fought so hard not to see. He was one of those stars in Milton, and if she had not asked him to bring her here, she would never have looked close enough to know what a friend she would have in him.

Dixon woke, and the stillness of the room was quickly disturbed. She helped Margaret into her undergarments and once both women were dressed, they began to pack their bags. A knock on the door caused Margaret's heart to race, she swiftly made her way to answer it.

Mr. Thornton could not keep a smile from creeping onto his face. He had seen her hair down from a distance yesterday, but that was only from behind and while Dixon was fashioning it. He had only imagined her this way. Her face appeared so different with it hanging carelessly on either side making its way nearly to her waist.

"I never imagined your hair to be so long." He said as if discussing her hair was the reason for his appearance. Margaret laughed.

"Well, good morning to you as well, Mr. Thornton." She extended her hand very naturally, he met it with both of his, much in the manner that he had the previous night.

"I'm sorry, good morning." He felt a tinge of embarrassment. "I just came to tell you that we are meeting Mr. Bell downstairs at 8 o'clock this morning." He was certain that she was aware of this fact, as both women were dressed and Dixon appeared to be packing.

"Yes, would you like to come in?" She asked with a genial smile.

"Only if you are certain that I will not be in the way." He wanted nothing more than to come in, to see her as much as she allowed.

"Nonsense." She led him over to the sitting area. "I am only hoping that Dixon and I do not bore you to death while we are packing, it has been a very quiet morning around here."

"That would be impossible." He added, watching Margaret and Dixon make quick work of organizing their bags. Dixon did not like their exchange, nor the shameless way that Mr. Thornton looked at her mistress. She knew that coming to this funeral would be nothing but trouble.

"Well, Miss Margaret, it is good that we are getting a little practice in. I would imagine that we will be doing a lot of packing when we get home." Dixon said, smiling toward Mr. Thornton.

"Dixon, please, let us just have a little peace this morning." It seemed that all that they spoke of lately was how quickly they could escape Milton.

"I am just saying that if we are not too tired when we get home we should try to start packing this afternoon, no doubt your Aunt will be there soon." Margaret did not respond. She focused all of her attention into folding and refolding the last article of clothing that needed to make its way into her bag. "I for one cannot wait to be back in that grand house. Have you ever been to Harley Street, Mr. Thornton?" She did not wait for a response. "It is fine indeed. I have not seen it since it became the Lennoxes. I would imagine that Mr. Henry Lennox visits his brother often there, don't you think, Miss Margaret." Both ladies had finished packing and Dixon brought Margaret to the vanity to put her hair up for the day.

Dixon knew what she was doing with her conversation, and did a very fine job of it. Mr. Thornton became absorbed in his thoughts, rendering himself completely unable to hear the rest of their discussion. He wondered if everything would change once they returned to Milton. If he visited the house in Crampton, would he be welcomed in with that unabashed smile that he had just come to know, or would they return to the icy greeting that he had become so accustom to. He thought about what Dixon had said about living with the Lennox family and Henry visiting often. Based on the conversation last night, Lennox was not shy about his wish to marry Margaret. If she did go to London, she would be lost to him—even more so than she was already.

He felt a very slight pressure on his shoulder. Looking toward it he saw a hand, which his eyes followed up to see Margaret leaning over him. "Did you hear me?"

When his eyes met hers, she very slowly pulled her hand away with a shy smile.

"I was only asking if you thought that we should go down to meet Mr. Bell. I think that he should be here soon." Her voice was a near whisper, making him feel as if her words were formed for him alone. His breath caught at her nearness.

"Yes." He spoke low before standing and raising his voice as if to address the room, "Are you both ready?" After placing their bags by the door, he escorted the ladies to breakfast.

When they arrived in the small dining room Mr. Bell was already seated at a table and rose to meet them. He met Margaret with a warm embrace, and they were all seated. Mr. Thornton was lost, his thoughts teetering somewhere between misery and bliss. As he had been seated across from Margaret, he could not help but watch her. All four sat in silence before ordering, after which, Mr. Bell felt it time to step in.

"Well, Dixon, I would imagine that you are ready for the London air." He turned toward Mr. Thornton. "It seems that the air in Milton can be quite frigid." Margaret lowered her head, she had not wanted to think about the possibility of leaving. Mr. Thornton turned to see what Mr. Bell was getting at.

"Yes sir, I am ready to be back in the south where we belong." Dixon replied.

"Things seem to have warmed up quite nicely here in Oxford, wouldn't you say Margaret, Thornton?" Mr. Thornton was beginning to become uneasy. Margaret met Mr. Thornton's eyes with a slight confusion. "Ah, but we were speaking of London, no use speaking of something as nonsensical as the weather."

"I do say that it will be nice for you to get back to more civilized company and conversations though Margaret. There, you will have no reasons to mingle with anyone below your station, and you can finally put all of this talk of strikes, manufacturing and politics behind you. Yes, you will be able to speak of lace and silks and balls to your heart's content." He watched Margaret sink lower into her chair, and turned his attention to Mr. Thornton. "You will never have to walk anywhere alone, my dear, as I am certain that your Aunt will insist upon an escort. I wonder if Henry Lennox would be up to the task." He looked around the table with an airy smile and said, "It sounds like wonderful life of utter dependence, what more could a lady of society wish?"

Mr. Thornton looked across at Margaret. Her eyes were sowncast, but he was certain that he saw a tear fall from her cheek. Mr. Bell had always been one to mince words, but he had never before thought him outright cruel. He must see how this was upsetting her.

"I have always liked Mr. Lennox, he visited us in Helstone, you know. Always been a handsome and attentive young man, if you ask me." Mr. Thornton felt everything in his body hungering to yell 'No one asked you.' He held Margaret in his gaze and wondered just how attentive Lennox would be if she did have to go to London.

Mr. Bell seemed to not have heard Dixon's comment.

"You know, I do not think that I have ever seen the two of you get on quite as I have of late." Margaret lifted her head and turned her eyes to Mr. Bell. Mr. Thornton's were glued to Margaret. "You have forged quite the friendship it seems." He paused. "It's a shame really."

"What is a shame, Mr. Bell?" Dixon responded. She had been quite drawn into this conversation.

"You see Dixon, I doubt that Thornton has a chance to make it to London often." A feeling of helplessness and anger began building in Mr. Thornton's stomach. "Am I right, Thornton?" Margaret turned her red eyes back to his with an expectant look, a plea for rescue, not only from this horrid conversation, but from the fate that it described.

Mr. Thornton could not find his voice, and lightly shook his head. "Rarely," he whispered, "very rarely." He tried to swallow, but found himself momentarily unable to do so.

The next statement was spoken as if to Margaret, but directed with full attention to Mr. Thornton. "Well, Margaret, If only we could think of some way to keep you in Milton."

Mr. Thornton met Margaret's eyes for only a moment before closing his and shaking his head so slightly that it was nearly unnoticeable. He stood and cleared his throat. "We need to be on our way soon. I am going to have the carriage drawn and speak to the bellman about our bags." Margaret watched him leave, the further away he became, the stronger the feeling of despair that resided within her seemed to grow.

"Mr. Bell," Margaret held a desperate tone, but did not know how to continue.

"My Dear," his voice was lowered to a point that did not allow Dixon to listen easily. His playful tone had disappeared. "Your Aunt will be here soon. I only wish you to think through your options fully. Don't leave your fate to chance." He stood, both Margaret and Dixon followed. Margaret took his arm as they walked outside

"Mr. Bell, I do not see that I have any options." She looked upon his face as though it may hold the answers that she was seeking.

"You have more than you think, I'm sure. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you ever find yourself in need." Margaret nodded. Mr. Thornton was walking out of the hotel giving instructions to the driver, Margaret's eye caught him immediately. "Sometimes we forget to consider what is standing just before us, my dear." He led her to the carriage and saw to it that she and Dixon were settled. Mr. Thornton soon left his conversation and began to enter the carriage as well without so much as a glance in Mr. Bell's direction.

"Thornton, a word if you will." Against Mr. Thornton's better judgment he joined Mr. Bell. They stood beside the bench that he had shared with Margaret the night before.

"Well?" Mr. Thornton replied, his arms crossed in a most defensive manner.

"It would do an old man good to see his Goddaughter happy-" Mr. Thornton cut him off before he could go any further.

"Is that so, happy? That was certainly not apparent this morning. You had the poor girl in tears, need I remind you that she put her father in the ground yesterday. What was that Bell, what were you trying to prove?" Mr. Thornton was more forceful than the older man had ever seen him. Mr. Bell would not allow his intimidation to show, his tone took on one of complete seriousness.

"She doesn't want to go to London, anyone can see that." Mr. Thornton pulled a hand to the back of his neck. "And though you hide it well, I think that you care for her a great deal. Why don't you try her?" Mr. Thornton's eyes narrowed on Mr. Bell, leaving him very unsettled. Without another word, Mr. Thornton turned and stormed to the carriage. He stopped with his hand on the door's handle. He was not certain why he decided to do so, but he turned around and walked back to Mr. Bell. His stance had somewhat deflated.

"I do care, more than you can know. You don't understand our past." He paused, attempting to collect himself.

"But how can you be certain if you do not try?" Mr. Thornton could barely breathe, but he forced himself to meet Mr. Bell's eyes.

"Miss Hale will not have me. If there is one thing in the world that I am certain of, it is that." Mr. Thornton turned in a much less decisive manner this time, returned to the carriage and silently took his seat next to Margaret.


	7. Awakening

**A/N-I have received some comments about Dixon overstepping her bounds, I could not agree more! I have written her that way, because that is the way that I see her. In Chapter 42, Aunt Shaw shows up and they are talking about stations and blood line, and Dixon gets a bigger chip on her shoulder than she had previously, I always think of this when I write Dixon: **_**'**__…made Dixon rather inclined to be supercilious in her treatment of any inhabitant of Milton; so, though she always stood rather in awe of Mr. Thornton, she was as curt as she durst be in telling him that he could see none of the inmates of the house that night'_ ** I tried to put her in a separate carriage or leave her in Oxford, but it just didn't work out…Though I am sure that John would have happily incurred the added expense. **

**Side note: I could not write Higgins per the novel…tried, it looked/read ridiculous! N&S belongs to Gaskell, I have merely lovingly borrowed her characters. **

Mr. Thornton was sitting next to Margaret, his hands gripping his knees. His eyes were straight forward, they were not on Dixon, in fact, they were miles away, months away. He felt himself in the Hale's parlor waiting anxiously on Margaret to join him. Words and phrases began to poison his mind. _'your whole manner offends me,' 'any gentleman,' 'that I was prompted by some particular feeling for you—you!' 'Why, there was not a man for whom I had not more sympathy.' 'I do not care to understand you.' 'I do not like you, and never have.' _

Margaret watched Mr. Thornton who seemed to be deeply distressed. She had witnessed him speak to Mr. Bell before he entered the carriage and knew that they must have spoken about some particularly disagreeable subject. In fact, most things that Mr. Bell said this morning were particularly disagreeable. Dixon had turned to the window and did not seem to take note of Mr. Thornton's discomfort, but the longer that he sat there, the further Margaret watched him fall into what appeared to be despair. After a few minutes on the on the road, Margaret decided that she should see if there was anything that she could do. After all, he had talked her through a great deal yesterday.

"Mr. Thornton?" She spoke softly, so as not to disturb the trance that the passing trees had inflicted upon Dixon. He did not respond. She placed her hand on top of his, causing him to emit a startled gasp and turn to her. She had never seen such raw emotion in his eyes. They searched hers in a way that both alarmed and strangely exhilarated her in some way that she could not put into words. Her breath caught as he turned his own hand causing their palms to face one another and his fingers and thumb to capture the smaller hand within his gentle grasp. Margaret stared at their hands, she thought of the times that they had greeted one another in a very similar gesture. This seemed to be very different. There was almost something desperate and sensual in the small affection that they were sharing. She would not be the one to bring it to an end.

Bringing her eyes back to his, she continued her original task. "Mr. Thornton, are you alright, you seem distracted?" Her words were filled with concern.

"I was only lost in thought for a moment," he squeezed her hand slightly, "but I am much better now." He basked in the smile that she freely gave, the touch that she did not shy from. He thought over everything that Mr. Bell had said. Margaret would be unhappy in London, yes, but could she be happy with him.

She faced forward once more but left her hand in his possession. The warmth from their hands coursed through her, overwhelming her senses. She moved her thumb over the exposed portion of his palm to his wrist and wondered if it caused the same sensations in him as it had in her. She could feel his eyes on her, but was not uncomfortable under their scrutiny, in all truth, there was something within her that rather enjoyed it. Margaret could not help but to reflect upon Mr. Bell's words and had begun to think that maybe he was right. She tried to wash that notion from her mind, and felt a need to withdraw her hand. She told herself that she would pull it back in a moment. Once that moment passed, she glanced at their hands and thought that she just needed a bit longer, once that interval was gone, she extended it as well. This continued for the better part of an hour.

The ride commenced in an amicable silence. Every few minutes Margaret would turn to Mr. Thornton with a smile to find that his eyes were still upon her. She preferred this quiet communion to speaking with Dixon's discerning ear hearing every word, she hoped that he understood. At some point when Margaret glanced at Mr. Thornton she found that he had fallen asleep. She could not pull from him now, she thought decidedly. That would likely wake him, and she was sure that he needed his sleep. He seemed peaceful, and she felt a desire to really look at him, allow her eyes to rest on him at a length as she never had dared before. She glanced at Dixon and saw that she was beginning to drift as well. Margaret kept close watch on her and the moment that her eyes closed, turned full attention to the Mr. Thornton.

His body was slightly turned toward her with his head against the bench. She had always thought him handsome, but had never allowed herself to examine him closely. Yes, she knew him to be a handsome man, but today, at this moment, she felt an undeniable attraction, she had never found a man more alluring. His lips were slightly parted as his heavy breaths swept in causing his chest to rise and fall. Margaret wondered what those lips would feel like on her own. She felt ashamed of herself, but not enough to take her eyes from him. He had a well defined jaw upon which she saw evidence of what would be a beard if he were not to shave. This short, dark shadow ran down his face and disappeared somewhere beneath is collar.

Margaret thought it odd that a man covered every inch of his body except for his hands. How different it was for a woman, who exposed her neck, arms and shoulders so freely. She wondered if his neck would look so very different from her own. She suddenly began to feel very warm, and thought that odd as it was still early on a winter morning.

As she sat watching him, with the feel of her hand gently tucked in his, she began to feel herself drift off as well. Placing her shoulder against the bench, she leaned her head upon the cushion. She closed her eyes, allowing his sleeping face to be the last thing that she saw before drifting. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, she felt her back against his firm chest, his arms draped about her waist, his gentle breath against her ear. She felt enveloped in his soothing presence and drifted into the second peaceful sleep that she had experienced in months.

Mr. Thornton awoke to a sound that he could not identify. His eyes opened to Margaret's face, her hand still tucked loosely within his. It felt like a dream. He committed this feeling to memory, as he had little hope of reliving it. If she had not needed the sleep so badly, and he knew what her reaction would be to wake to him in such a way, he would attempt to coax her out of her slumber. Mr. Thornton heard the sound that awoke him moments ago. Looking across the carriage he saw that it had been Dixon clearing her throat, she was giving him the most unfriendly of looks that he had ever received from a servant.

"May I help you, Dixon?" He asked in a petulant whisper.

Dixon looked from him to the hands that lay joined between the pair. He understood her meaning, but would not do the bidding of a servant, even if she was with Margaret.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable on this side of the carriage, Mr. Thornton. There is much more room to stretch out." Speaking in her normal tone caused Margaret to stir, but only for a moment. Dixon was very unhappy with the sight that she woke to see. She had no intention of sitting by and letting that man make his way into the mistress's affections while she was at her most vulnerable.

"I am fine where I am Dixon. We need to keep our voices down, she has not slept well for some time." She began to contest him, but the look on his face told her not to cross him. The rest of the journey continued with Margaret asleep, Mr. Thornton casually sitting beside her and Dixon across with folded arms, glaring at him.

When the horses finally stopped in front of the Crampton house, it was well past midday. Margaret began to open her sleepy eyes to the sound of Mr. Thornton's baritone voice. "Miss Hale, we are home." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished himself to be half of a 'we' that had recently arrived to their home.

"We're home?" Margaret asked, as she rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up in her seat. She looked down to see her hand in his. Looking back up at him, she eased her thumb to his wrist once more before retrieving her hand.

"Yes, Miss Margaret, we are home." Dixon stated. Mr. Thornton opened the door and helped both out, Margaret laced her arm through his as he walked them to their parlor. After excusing himself, he returned with the two bags that he had placed in the carriage only yesterday.

"Miss Hale, thank you for your company." Mr. Thornton said, "I wish that I could stay, but I am afraid that I do need to return to the mill this afternoon." He did not want to leave her.

"It is I who should be thanking you, Mr. Thornton. You have been very helpful over these past few days." She placed her hand on his arm before continuing. "I don't know how I would have made it through all of this without you." She meant this. She wanted him to stay, but knew that she had already monopolized too much of his time.

"I was pleased to help." He would be pleased to do anything for her, if only she would help him to see what she would accept from him. They shook hands and he walked to the door. Pressure from the hand on his arm halted his departure.

"Mr. Thornton." He turned to face her, eyes filled with a discerning hope. "Please visit us soon." He nodded and soon returned to the carriage.

Mr. Thornton walked into his bed chamber and changed from his travel clothes. Before heading to the mill, he stopped in the dining room to find his mother.

"Good afternoon, mother." He bent down to kiss her.

"I'm glad to have you home, John. How was Oxford?" He slipped on his coat and walked toward the door.

"We will have to discuss that tomorrow, I am afraid. I have missed too much time at the mill." He replied.

"You should have returned last evening, as you planned. I will never understand why you let that girl rule your head." She stood and walked toward him, straightening his cravat which he had obviously tied in a hurry.

"Mother," he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Do not wait up, I am sure to be in the office late tonight." She simply smiled at him, and let him go on his way.

"I will have the cook keep a plate for you." She called to him before the door closed.

Mr. Thornton worked late into the night and woke up two hours earlier than normal to get ahead the next morning. His purpose was partly to make up for the time that he had missed, but his true intention was to have time to visit Crampton after dinner. As the hands were leaving for the day, Mr. Thornton took his leave as well. He headed toward the house.

"G'day Master." Mr. Thornton turned to see Higgins close in tow, he slowed to allow the man to catch up.

"Good evening, Higgins. How are the children?"

"Fine. Wish you would have been in the dining hall today." Higgins said, he could sense that Thornton was in a hurry to get somewhere.

"I have not had a spare minute today." He added, they were almost through the mill yard.

"Ay, Miss Margaret said as much." Mr. Thornton stopped mid stride. He turned to face Higgins, a stern look upon his face.

"Miss Hale was here?" Thoughts began to race through his mind, but he quelled them in order to hear what Higgins had to say.

"Ay, she went down to visit my Mary, and were told that she worked at Thornton's in the dining-room. She had not heard about it and wanted to see it for herself, and so she did." Thornton just nodded and turned to go inside. He had other questions, but could not have formed them if he had wished to. She had told Higgins that he could not spare time to see her. There was a part of him that thought her considerate for thinking of him. Perhaps she knew that he could scarcely afford to spend time away from the mill. He could not help but wonder why she would come to his mill and not alert him of her presence. He knew that she could not feel for him the way that he did her, but he hoped beyond hope that there was something there, that he had not dreamed up this connection that was forming between them.

He tried to remember the time before he had foolishly proposed to her, he had felt a connection then as well, did he not? He could not banish this manner of thinking, despite his efforts. But, he thought, she had never let him touch her before, and she was very receptive. She had certainly never sat alone with him for hours. Back then she never would have shared her deeper thoughts. She would not have asked to know about him, she would not have been so warm and inviting to him if there was not something there. He found that no amount of reasoning would give him the answers that he was looking for. He would have to seek them through her.

He went to his room to change for the second time today. Looking in the mirror he hoped that a little color would take the edge off of what he knew to be a sometimes too-stern appearance. He left his room and joined his mother for dinner.

"Good evening mother." Mr. Thornton kissed her and took his seat across from her at the large dining table. Meals were much quieter with Fanny married and only his mother for company. He had to admit that despite his occasional annoyances with his sister, he did miss her, especially the levity that she added to their very formal home.

"You were not wearing that this morning, I am sure of it." Mrs. Thornton looked her son over, she was fairly certain that he planned on making an evening visit, but would wait to be told.

"You are right, mother, I am visiting Crampton after dinner." Mr. Thornton readied himself for a battle. He was quite aware of her distain for Miss Hale. He watched her, deciding to take whatever she would say head on. She place her fork on the table and slowly meet his eyes.

"Is that necessary?" She asked.

"I am afraid that it is."

"How is Miss Hale doing, John?" Mrs. Thornton replied, catching her son completely off guard.

"She is doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. She has lost both of her parents within only a few months' time, and I am afraid is feeling a little lost." The conversation with Higgins came to mind, "You did not happen to see her today, did you?"

"No, why would I have seen her?"

"No reason." He replied, he would ask her about it tonight.

"I cannot imagine what she must be going through. She has spoken of an Aunt in London is that her only family, John?" John thought his mother to be unusually sympathetic tonight.

"Well, she does have a brother, I have discovered. He is not here, though." He decided to relay the information to his mother as it was to him, free of drama, and factually driven.

"A Brother? Why on earth would we never have known that there was another child in the Hale family?" Mrs. Thornton was absorbed by the conversation and had not resumed eating. This was quite the opposite of their normal dinner hour.

"We did not know because he is in some trouble with the Navy, it is a lot to explain right now. I actually learned of him from Mr. Bell on the trip back from Havre, it was the same time that I heard of Mr. Hale's passing." He paused for a moment, his mother listening without interruption. "He actually came here before Mrs. Hale's passing, the day of her death, Margaret took him to the station. It was he who was with her that night at Outwood Station, Mother." There was a moment of skepticism residing within Mrs. Thornton's eyes, but it was soon replaced with clear understanding.

"He is now back in Spain." Mr. Thornton continued. "So, no, she has no other family to speak of, certainly none here. She needs someone to talk to, and I like to think that it does her good to talk to me."

"You are a good man to do that for her, especially after all that she has put you through." Mrs. Thornton said. Despite the tender feelings that he still had, he must remember the past.

"Don't sing my praises too loud, mother. I'm afraid that I am not only doing it for her." Mr. Thornton picked up his silverware and began to eat his cooling dinner. Mrs. Thornton, who was a little shaken by her son's last statement, followed suit.

"Will she be leaving," she hesitated before adding, "soon?" Mr. Thornton's face fell, and his mother almost regretted asking the question.

"I'm not sure, but there is a lot of talk of it." He added silently she would be going nowhere if he could help it. He also thought much of Henry Lennox, who he was not able to rid from his mind since the first moment that he laid eyes on the man. Mr. Thornton stood to leave. He gave his mother a kiss, but was stopped by her hand on his arm.

"John, please be careful." He gave her a questioning look. "I am only saying that you should not put your heart out there again, especially if you know that she is leaving." He looked at his mother, pulling his lips tight for a moment.

"It is too late for that, I'm afraid. I love you mother."


	8. Time

Mr. Thornton knocked on the door that he had entered so many times over the past year and a half. On his walk from the mill, he told himself that he would come here, come to her with no expectations, but it seemed that no amount of effort on his part would allow for that. He was in this completely and there was no turning back.

Dixon answered the door, and did not even attempt a smile on his behalf. "Good Evening, Mr. Thornton. How may I help you?" He was still standing on the doorstep.

"I am here to see Miss Hale."

"It is quite late, sir." Mr. Thornton's nerves and anger seemed to be getting the better of him. He had always called at this hour. He did not know if it was Dixon's impertinence or Miss Hale's unwillingness, but he would not leave without an explanation.

"Will she refuse to see me then?" Dixon knew that she could not stand in his way despite how she would have liked to. Margaret had been moping about most of the day, and could stand to talk to someone. This man was her last choice of the someone that Dixon wished that to be.

"No, sir, I am sure that she will see you, she is upstairs in the master's study." Dixon's resignation was obvious in both her tone and her opening of the door fully to allow Mr. Thornton through. He noticed that the downstairs parlor was in a strange state of disarray, and his heart sank as he realized that they had already begun to pack.

"Thank you, I will show myself up." Without another word or look in her direction, he climbed the stairs. Any thought on Dixon's insolence was quickly replaced by the anticipation of seeing Margaret.

He stood quietly at the open door of the study and watched her with a heavy heart. She was sitting in her father's chair, in a more relaxed manner than he had ever seen her in this room. There was a book sitting open in her lap. She could not have been through but a few pages into the text, for the bulk of it rested beneath her right hand. With her left, she appeared to be tenderly stroking something in the upper portion of the page. There were tears streaming down her face. He felt like an intruder watching her at this moment, he needed to make his presence known.

"Miss Hale," Mr. Thornton said as he slowly entered the door. "I thought that you might like some company tonight." She did not get up and tried to hide the fact that she was crying.

"I would like that very much. Pull a chair-" before she could finish, another burst of tears came causing her to hide her face in her hands. "I am so sorry."

"Miss Hale, do not apologize. You can be yourself with me." She looked up and him with a manufactured smile. His lips turned up as well when he noticed that she had his handkerchief held tightly in her right hand. He pulled a chair close as she had suggested, possibly closer than she had intended, but she had never specified.

"What are you reading?" He could clearly see that it was the bible, but needed somewhere to start.

"It is Father's Bible. He wrote—" She had to stop due to a silent outpour of tears. He waited, patiently. She met his eyes. "Oh, Mr. Thornton, you will find me too silly."

"Why don't you try me?" He gave her his complete attention. She nodded before she timidly began.

"Alright, then, where to begin?" she paused for a moment and a look that conveyed both pleasure and pain washed over her features. "One summer when I was a little girl, only eight or so, we were all in Helstone, and we were so happy. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, Mother, Father and Fred alongside me. I do not remember what we were discussing, but somehow the question of our favorite passage from the bible came up. You see, Papa always ensured that we were well read in the bible, among other things of course."

"I do not doubt that." Mr. Thornton would have expected no less from Mr. Hale.

"Fred rambled off his immediately, he was always very quick. I, on the other hand, told Papa that I needed time to think about it. I had many passages that were dear to me and did not know how I could possibly choose but one." She smiled at the memory. "Father said, 'of those, choose the one that you feel to be the most important.' I remember that so clearly. I thought about it very hard, I wanted to present him with the best possible verse." Margaret looked down. "I always wished to please my father."

"I am sure that you always did." Margaret acknowledged him, but continued.

"Every night for two weeks I went to bed with a candle and scoured the pages until I could not keep my eyes open any longer. One morning, I went down to his office with all of the self assurance in the world. Mind you, I am fairly certain that he had forgotten even asking the question in the first place." She breathed a little laughed. "I walked in, bible in hand, and said 'Papa, I am ready.' He lowered his glasses and asked me what I meant. I told him that I had found my favorite verse." She beamed at Mr. Thornton, who was leaning forward in his chair. She turned the bible around to face him moving it from her lap to his.

"I very cheerfully told him 'It is Genesis 1:1.'" She laughed at the memory. "He looked at me very much the same way that you do now. He asked why God creating the Heaven and earth would inspire me as it seemed to have." Mr. Thornton was thriving on her openness. "With every bit of pride that I had, I told him that we would not have any other passages in the bible if we did not have that one, therefore, it_ must_ be my favorite.'"

Mr. Thornton laughed heartily and unrestrained, long and hard. Margaret could not help but join in. He finally managed to take hold of himself. "It would seem that you have always been a clever girl, Margaret."

"Now, I do not know about that." She leaned forward, her head nearly touching his. He had to actively keep himself from easing forward. She amazed him. There was a depth to her that he had never known in any other person. "I came in here this evening and decided to turn to my father's bible for comfort but I did not get very far. You see." Margaret pointed to the top of the page that she had been touching when he entered the room. Her fingers now traced her own name written above the passage. Genesis 1:1 was underlined.

"He would tease me with it here and there, and the story made its way into a sermon once." Fresh tears began to form, but they were accompanied by a genuine smile.

"Now see, that was not silly at all." He said, placing his hand alongside the one in his lap.

"I believe that I recall you laughing." She tried to make that into a reprimand, but failed to do so.

"Well, that," He paused and took her hand in his own. "That was because you shared your story with such conviction. Not to mention, it was very amusing."

They heard Dixon's footsteps on the stairs and Margaret quickly pulled her hand from his and sat up straight in her chair. Mr. Thornton sighed and straightened himself as well, somewhat grudgingly.

Dixon walked into the study with a tea tray. She quickly looked between Margaret and Mr. Thornton. She had heard them laughing from downstairs and felt that it was high time for an interruption. Margaret quickly stood and began to pour tea for her guest.

"Good news Miss Margaret, the upstairs sitting room and bedroom have been packed." Mr. Thornton saw Margaret wince as if the news affected her greatly. "I will be back up in a moment." With that, Dixon descended the stairs, and they were left alone once more.

"She certainly is," he paused, "determined." Mr. Thornton said, for lack of anything better.

"Yes, that is mother's sitting room, and my parent's bedroom that she was referring to. But it is alright, I suppose." Margaret sighed. "I have forbidden her to touch this room at all, I need a little normalcy around here." Dixon had quickly returned to the room with a tray of cocoa-nut cakes. She knew how Margaret liked them, and intended to have them ready for Aunt Shaw when she paid a visit.

"Here, Miss Margaret, You have not eaten anything in days and I know these to be some of your favorites." Dixon brought one to her on a plate.

"Thank you Dixon, but I seem to have little appetite right now."

"Maybe the London air will help bring your appetite back." Dixon added. She wanted Mr. Thornton to know that he was not to get too comfortable as Miss Margaret would soon be sitting in a chair much further away.

"I am sure that the air has little to do with it, Dixon. Is there anything else that you need?" Margaret spoke sharper than she had heard in quite some time, and Dixon thought that she should be perhaps take her leave.

"I think I'll be going now." Dixon turned to leave the room. "I was only saying that being home with the Lennoxes will do you a world of good, you need a little family in your life right now." Dixon said as she climbed back down the stairs. Mr. Thornton wondered just how many more of these delightful visits that they should expect tonight. The name Lennox reverberated through him.

"Miss Hale, if I may ask, how do you know Henry Lennox?" Mr. Thornton knew that he should not be asking this question. Her relation to this other man should really be none of his concern. That was far from the case.

"Well, he is Edith's brother in law." He of course knew that, but she was very nervous. "You see, Edith and I were practically raised as sisters, I lived with her in London for nine years while Mother and Father lived in Helstone. Helstone was still home. It is where I spent all of my holidays."

"He visited you in Helstone?" He did not know why he was putting himself through this torture. Margaret also seemed discomforted by the question.

"Yes. We grew very close around Edith's wedding. We shared interests and he was easy to talk to. We discussed Helstone once and he said that he wished to visit, and I told him that he was welcome anytime. One day, he just showed up." Margaret did not know what more she could share in good conscience. She prayed that this conversation would not go much further.

"I see." Mr. Thornton replied. After a small time of silence, in which he agonized over the ease of Margaret talking to this handsome London gentleman who seemed more than eager to sweep her up and marry her at a moment's notice, he could see that she was uneasy. Mr. Thornton tilted his head to one side and addressed her once more. "Do you want to discuss this?"

"Not particularly." Margaret said. He was in complete agreement, wishing that he had never touched on it. Margaret began to eat just a bit of her pastry, and though it was not the best source of nourishment on an empty stomach, he was glad to see her finally eating something.

"Higgins said that you were in the dining room today, I wish that you would have stopped by the office." Mr. Thornton looked at her with a furrowed brow. He wished that Dixon had not interrupted earlier, and that he could still have her hand in his.

"I did think about it, quite a lot actually. Only I knew how busy you were and that you did not need the interruption. I was only there for a few minutes." She honestly did not know how she would be received in the middle of a work day, barging into his office for the second time in a week's span.

"I would have enjoyed the interruption." He said honestly. Something in his tone caused Margaret blushed, she turned her eyes down for a moment.

"I was very impressed. The men say that you eat with them at times."

"I am glad that you approve." He said humbly.

"I am proud of you." She looked at him in all earnestness. He stilled for a moment, all emotion left his face. Coming tonight was not a good idea, Mr. Thornton realized. He wanted her more than ever, and this was some sort of a divine torture. He always thought that if he could have just a little more from her that he would be satisfied. He now knew that the more that she gave, the stronger his need became.

"If you ever do come back by, please come up to see me, even if you can only spare a moment." Margaret nodded.

"Mr. Thornton," Margaret took a deep breath. "There is something that I have wished to say to you all weekend, but I have been afraid of how it would be received." His eyes searched hers for a moment.

"What is it? I will try to receive it well."

"Before Father died, you did not see him as often as you once had." She could not look at him. "I am afraid that I was the cause of that, and I am sorry." He did not know how to respond. "He cared a great deal for you, you should know that. He spoke of you all of the time." There was so much more that she wanted to add but could not. As much as they had spoken over these four days, there had not been a mention of his proposal and her horrible response to it. They seemed to skirt it rather well, as if it had never existed. Margaret wondered if he remembered the awful things that she had said to him that afternoon.

"He was a wonderful friend, and I miss him dearly." Mr. Thornton's eyes were on her.

"I miss them both so much." She met his eyes. "Oh, Mr. Thornton, how is it that life can change so suddenly. I feel as though everything has been taken from me, and I am being sentenced to some new life that is not of my choosing." She was able to meet his eyes once more.

"I understand."

"Everyone says that, but how could you? Both of my parents are gone and I have no idea where life is going to take me next."

"I am not simply saying that as a passing sentiment Miss Hale. While I do not presume to understand your exact situation, I do know what it feels like to have lost, to have the life that you have known swept from you."

"When your father—" She could not continue, and Mr. Thornton was glad of it.

"Yes, when he passed, I was still a boy in many ways. I was a student, always very serious, my chief responsibility was to school." He pulled his eyes to the floor. "When he died, I had no choice but to become a man very quickly. Suddenly the responsibility of keeping myself and two others fell on my shoulders and I had no choice in the matter. We lost our home, all of our things, it was devastating.

"Fanny was only a girl, and mother and I did what we could to keep her from sharing in the hardship. I knew that I had two options. I could let the situation overtake me, or I could overtake it. From that day on, I fought. I fought for my mother and my sister, and for a life that I knew that we could regain one day."

"Do you ever think about what could have happened, if things were different, that is?" Margaret asked.

"What would be the point in that? It would not change my circumstances. I think that we have to take what life gives us and make the best of it, no matter how difficult. You see, I am not of the school of thought that says 'everything happens for a reason.' I cannot believe that. Sometimes bad things just happen, Miss Hale. I do believe, however, that no matter what happens, you can mold the outcome into something favorable. I also believe that the way that we handle those challenges determine the men and women that we become."

"You have turned your life into something great." Margaret added, she meant it.

"I will agree that I believe Marlborough Mills to be my great accomplishment, but there are times that I fear that it is all that I am." Margaret reached forward and took his hand in her own.

"It is not all that you are. It may have molded what you have become, which from where I sit seems to be something great as well." His eyes bore into her at this comment. Her heart was pounding, and his hold on her hand was very firm. He wished to ask 'do you really think that?" Before he was able to, Margaret noticed that his tea cup was empty and stood, causing him to release her hand. He continued with his original train of thought.

"What I am trying to say, Miss Hale, is that life has handed you a set of miserable circumstances, and now it is time for you to choose what you do with them." He wanted her to choose the best option, even if it wasn't him. Margaret handed Mr. Thornton his tea and took her seat. "There are many people that care for you. In fact, Mr. Bell said that he would take a dragon on as a chaperone if it meant that you could go to live with him as his daughter." He paused for a moment, "I would imagine that Dixon might be up for the job." Margaret's eyes opened wide.

"Mr. Thornton, that is horrible." She tried with some difficulty not to laugh. "It is true, though." They both laughed heartily.

As if on cue, Dixon made her way up the stairs once more.

"It is growing late, you should try to get some sleep, Mrs. Shaw may be visiting tomorrow. Good night Mr. Thornton." After she was bid goodnight, she picked up the tea tray and cake platter before retreated down the stairs once more. Mr. Thornton stood to bid Miss Hale goodnight. As they walked down the stairs, Margaret noted, somewhat to herself.

"She said the same last night, and I imagine that she will be saying that to me every night until Aunt Shaw actually arrives." Margaret stopped at the front door. She extended her hand which he took to hold, rather than shake.

"She is certainly not shy about wanting you back in London." Mr. Thornton felt that to be the nicest way to address his sentiments on the subject.

"That is true, I think that she brings it up so often because she fears that you will keep me here." As soon as she said it, she wished to take it back.

Still holding her hand, Mr. Thornton brought his other on top of hers and lightly stroked it with his fingertips. He kept his eyes focused on their hands, and spoke with much hesitation. "Does she have anything to worry about?" There was a silence that felt like an eternity to Mr. Thornton.

"Possibly." Their eyes met, and though Margaret's begged to turn away, she did not allow it. "But I need time, Mr. Thornton."

"I will give you time. Margaret, I will give you anything." Margaret was shocked by his response. She very tentatively brought her hand to his shoulder. She could no longer question how he felt about her.

"Would you visit again tomorrow? If you are not too busy, of course." Margaret asked, she wished that she could offer something more eloquent, but his words had clouded her mind.

"I will never be too busy for you." He was breathless. Everything in him was begging to kiss her, but she had just asked for time.

"Until tomorrow, then." Margaret said. He released her hand, bid her farewell and soon disappeared into the night.

**A/N: The next chapter may not come as quickly. We are going on vacation on Thursday night. If I cannot post it by then, it will not be up until after Monday. Thank you guys for reading, this has been by far my favorite chapter to write! Please let me know what you think.**


	9. Arrival

_I would like to thank my wonderful friends Ana and Val who have been an amazing sounding board. When I wrote chapter 1, I thought that this would be a little 3 chapter ficlet, who knew! I should have the next chapter up much quicker than this one appeared. Comments are encouraged, welcomed, and cherished; as are all of you who read._

When Mr. Thornton arrived home from Crampton, he went straight to his office and collected his latest ledger before securing the mill and returning to his bed chamber. His mother had already retired for the night, but he saw many more hours of work before him this evening before he could do the same. He sat at the table in his sitting area and poured himself into his paperwork. He worked with a fresh determination, if there was any way to bring himself out of their current financial situation, he would find it.

After several hours, he finally closed the ledger. Though he was no closer to a solution, he could breathe easily knowing that payroll was safe, and he had enough in his personal accounts to pay off his debts if it came to that. He tried not to think about the looming possibility of closing the mill; he had months before he would need to consider that as an option. Since the strike, this had been a fear that resided somewhere in the back of his mind. Holding the bridge of his nose, he decided to put business away for the next three or four hours before a new day would bring further challenges his direction.

Before climbing into bed, he walked over to the small bookcase that was housed in a corner of his room. He lightly ran his fingers over the spines until he spotted the cover that he had sought. He pulled out his personal bible from the bookshelf, not remembering the last time that this book had been in his hands. He brought it to bed with him, not so much to read as it was to absorb himself in the memory of the conversation that he held earlier this evening. As he turned to the first passage, his eyes allowed the words blur into the vision of Margaret as a girl, her chin up in a proud gesture that was peculiarly her own. As he allowed her conversation to sink into him, he was hopefully and peacefully lulled into a quiet slumber.

Margaret awoke with a feeling of uneasiness about the way that she had left things with Mr. Thornton the night before. He had told her that he would give her time, and left no question in her mind that he still wanted her. These newfound feelings that she had discovered within herself had developing quickly, but she was worried that it may be happening too quickly. When he had proposed to her so many months ago, she was certain that she could never wish for a life with a man such as him. She had seen him as arrogant and prideful, with little regard for his fellow man. The thought of him ruling over her as a husband was not a fate that she could ever fathom resigning herself to.

In these four short days, her opinion of him had drastically changed. If she knew that she would be with the man that she had spent the last two evenings with, she would go to him this very minute and tell him that she has been a fool, and that she would do anything to earn the love that he has offered to her for so long. However, her hesitation was great. Her previous negative opinion of him raised far too much concern to consider anything as serious as marriage just yet. How could she possibly accept such an offer, if such an offer were to be made once more, based upon a very small handful of conversations?

She would like to discuss this with him. Though she was certain that it was not at all an appropriate conversation for a young woman to hold, Margaret was fairly certain that he would be willing to discuss anything with her. He was not driven by propriety, and certainly did not hold his tongue in her presence because of some preordained social expectation. She knew that he cared for her and she should feel free to voice her concerns. She would speak of it, and she would do so this evening.

Dixon walked into her room to assist her in her dress as she did every morning. Margaret was upset with the family servant, yes, she had been in the Hale home for longer than herself, but that did not give Dixon a right to govern her actions.

"Should we be expecting a visit from anyone today?" The inflection that Dixon placed upon the word 'anyone' made it obvious to Margaret that she was not inquiring about just anyone.

"Dixon, you must stop treating Mr. Thornton as you have this past week." Margaret said with conviction. "He has been a true friend to us—to me, when I have needed one the most."

"I am only watching out for your best interests Miss Margaret. He had no business coming here so late last night." Dixon remarked.

Margaret turned to face her, a look of indignant disbelief consuming her. "You have been watching out for your own interests, not mine. When Mr. Thornton took lessons with Father he came every bit as late as he did last night."

"With all due respect, Miss Margaret, you are not your father. You are an eligible young lady, and he is an unmarried man. You should not be up with him at all hours unchaperoned." She paused for a moment while pulling the strings on Margaret's corset just a little tighter. "More than that, I am not certain that his only interest in you is friendship." Dixon said, an air of self righteousness about her.

"Dixon, need I remind you that you are still a servant in this house? You have done a fine job chaperoning me, I would say." Margaret's tone was harsh , she pulled her head back and continued. "Have you witnessed me overstepping the bounds of propriety in any way? Have I done something that you feel to be inappropriate? You have no business dictating my visitors, nor their interests. I will not tolerate any further ill will toward Mr. Thornton." Margaret was proud that she found the strength to tell Dixon exactly what she felt.

"I do understand my place, I am just saying that it will serve you well to-"

Dixon was quickly cut short by Margaret. "No! I need you, and everyone else to stop telling me where I belong and what I should do. I deserve some control over my life, and I am choosing to take it."

"But Miss Margaret, not with some tradesman in _Milton_." Dixon sounded as though there could be no worse fate in all of the world. She felt that it was her duty to guide Margaret now that her mother had passed. Perhaps if she had been able to persuade Miss Maria Beresford not to go and fall for a poor country clergyman, none of this would have ever been placed upon them.

"Dixon, Mr. Thornton is a highly respected manufacturer, he is the Master of one of the finest mills in Milton. He is a very good man, in fact, he is one of whom you yourself have often spoken highly of in the past." Margaret paused for a moment as if considering her words. "He also cares for me, and has done much for myself and my family, expecting nothing in return."

"It seems to me that he might be expecting something in return." Dixon sighed. "I understand that you need to marry comfortably. Just let us get back to London and I am sure that your aunt and Miss Edith will be happy to help you." Dixon all but pleaded.

"I would never marry for money." Margaret spoke calmly and plainly. Dixon did not reply to her comment, though she wanted to tell her mistress that marrying for love certainly did not make her mother happy, that love fades and that it is important to see what you will be left with once it does.

"But we were all so happy in London. When your mother was but a young lady, we enjoyed the balls and society. There was always an occasion to dress and we were always surrounded by such pleasant people." Dixon had a gleam in her eye as she remembered the former glory of her position. "When she married your father, we were moved to Helstone, and the Mistress never attended another ball. Her happiness quickly faded into loneliness out in the vast countryside in Helstone." Her features darkened. "Then your father dragged us to this dreadful place, and your mother lost all hope." Dixon sighed. "I only wish for you to see your options, options that your mother lost in her marriage."

Margaret felt her heart crush as she heard Dixon's words. She remembered her father admitting that he knew what it was like to disappoint one's family. At the time she wrote it off as nonsense, but knew in her heart that it was not. Her mother sorely resented her father. It was true that they had married for love, but their relationship was not one of openness and understanding. Every serious topic was covered in euphemism in the Hale home. Confrontation was easily traded for pleasant surface talk especially between her parents. Margaret could easily say that the first time that she had felt true openness, a true sense of sharing herself, was in the carriage on the way to her father's funeral.

"Dixon, I liked living in London as well, but I was living someone else's life there. When I left mother and father in Helstone, I cried every night for months. Somehow, after time I grew accustomed to London, but it never truly felt like home. I lived in Edith's shadow. There were always balls and social outings, but I never enjoyed them. When I left London for good, I was shocked that the same feeling of trepidation was present upon returning to Helstone. I felt like a visitor in both of my homes." Margaret tried to convey her sincerity. "I hated it here at first, just as you and mother did. We knew no one, the people were so different. But, with mother and father, this became, and still is home. A home that we all made together.

"I am begging you Dixon, stop alluding to London with every passing breath." This was the closest thing to an order that Margaret had ever issued to Dixon. "I would also like for you to refrain from packing until we know more. Too much has changed in too little time."

Dixon agreed. "I will if you wish, but you must understand that no matter what happens, we will not remain in this house." With that, Dixon left Margaret alone in her room. Margaret went to her little wooden desk and pulled out a piece of paper and her ink well. She addressed her correspondence to Mr. Bell. No one had offered particulars on her financial and living situations, and she wished to know just how long she could afford to remain in the Crampton house with Dixon. After sealing the envelope, she dropped it upon her bed and decided to post it tomorrow morning. Mr. Thornton was right, she had a choice, and perhaps this letter would allow her to chose independence.

Mrs. Thornton was seated at the breakfast table before John had made it downstairs. This was an odd occurrence, as he was always the first one up in their home. There was a lightness in his step, and a softening to his features that she did could not recall seeing before. She was certain that Miss Hale was the reason for the newfound levity, and the thought of his happiness being dashed once more by that woman caused her heart to sink. Before she wished her son a good morning, she said a silent prayer. Mrs. Thornton asked that her son be spared of heartache. She promised that if what he wished for came to fruition, she would try to treat Miss Hale as a daughter. If only she would love her son as he deserved, Mrs. Thornton swore that she would do everything in her power to love the girl in return. She began to close her prayer, when she hastily added one final request. She asked that if this girl would not have her son, that she would leave Milton, and that she would do it soon.

"Good morning, Mother." John said as he took his seat.

"Good morning, John. You seem to be in quite a pleasant mood this morning, are things going well at the mill?" Mrs. Thornton asked, assuming that this change in disposition had little to do with the mill.

"Everything is the same at the mill, but I am working hard to change it." He added nothing more to the conversation, and appeared to his mother to be lost in thought. They had almost finished breakfast, when she attempted to pick the conversation back up.

"Was Miss Hale feeling any better last night?" She finally asked. John thought about his mother's question. He would like to think that she was doing better. He was happier than he could ever remember feeling, and that was based solely on a possibility. He could not imagine what he would feel if her possibly were to ever became a definitely, but he hoped that he would know one day.

"She is better. I think that she is having difficulty with the possibility of leaving." He paused for a moment, "I think that I am having a little bit of difficulty with it as well." He and his mother never spoke to one another simply to speak. He knew that he could confide anything in her, but they did not converse unless there was something important to be said, often leaving their home very quiet. Their candor, however, was nothing like that which had recently been shared with Miss Hale. He had found the same quality in her father, and it was incredibly refreshing. They could speak to one another for hours on end and never become bored, never find a lack of topics to explore or debate.

He had found something beautiful in simply talking to enjoy the company of another person. He wondered what it would be like to have every evening filled with her wonderful stories or sharing the events of their day. He wondered what it would be like to have his love reciprocated. Last night was the first time that he felt that it was at all possible.

Mrs. Thornton wanted to know if he would ask her to stay, if he would extend the offer of marriage once more. She wanted to ask if Miss Hale's feelings had changed. Mrs. Thornton's position differed greatly from the last time that she had considered the possibility of John marrying Margaret.

"John, Is there any way that you-" she stopped herself, knowing the result when she had offered him encouragement the last time that a similar situation was upon them. "Will you visit Crampton this evening?"

"Yes, Mother. I will visit Miss Hale as often as I am able. Now I need to go to work. I will be in the office most of the day." He walked to the door. "I will come in before leaving for Crampton, but am afraid that I will not have an opportunity to return before then." Mr. Thornton was determined to spend the majority of his work day as he had the previous evening, and on his way up to his office he warned his overseer not to disturb him.

He slung his coat over the back of his chair and took a seat at his desk. He threw himself into his task at hand with a determination that he had not possessed until the previous night. Even the sad state of his finances could not upset Mr. Thornton on this day. Margaret had finally allowed him hope.

Margaret found herself lulled from a dream by a distantly familiar voice. As her overly sleepy lids began to rise and the harsh light made its unfriendly intrusion into her eyes, Margaret thought that she could make out the figure of her Aunt Shaw standing before her in her father's study. Attempting to rub the fog away, Margaret focused on the stately woman standing before her, and found that it was indeed her aunt.

"Good Afternoon Aunt Shaw, I certainly did not expect you so soon." Margaret said as she stood to receive an embrace from the first family that she had seen since her father's departure to Oxford.

"Oh, Margaret, my dear, how are you? I have come to take you home with me immediately." Mrs. Shaw said with an air of a heroine. Dixon stood behind her with her arms crossed and a smile upon her face.

"Immediately, Aunt Shaw?" Margaret's heart sank.

"Of course, there is certainly no reason to stay in this dreadful place. Dixon will stay for a few weeks and pack. Everything must be sold." Aunt Shaw said, Margaret watched Dixon's smile fade. "If we leave now, we will be in home in time for dinner."

"We cannot sell all of Father's books." Margaret felt her heart racing. "And we cannot leave today, I must say goodbye to my friends."

"I do not know how many friends you could possibly have made here." She said with a huff. "I will come with you to say your goodbyes and then we will be on our way." Aunt Shaw proclaimed. Margaret readied herself to go, her entire body numb from the news.

Once dressed for a day of traveling, Margaret looked down at the letter that she had written to Mr. Bell, and said in a resigned tone, "I suppose that there is no point in sending you now, is there?" She descended the stairs and overheard the tail end of a conversation between Dixon and her aunt.

"…planning on coming until next week, however when Henry arrived home, he urged me to collect Margaret as quickly as possible." Margaret leaned her head against the wall for a moment as the remainder of the conversation washed over her. She despised being treated as though she were a child, or an item that could simply be 'collected.' She finally pulled herself together and met her aunt. When they were about to walk out of the door, Margaret quickly ran back to her father's study and found the first book that Mr. Thornton had studied with her father. Once she had it in hand, the two ladies walked silently to the carriage. Disbelief consumed Margaret as she travelled to bid farewell to Mr. Thornton.

"Aunt Shaw, I do not wish to return to London so quickly, could I not stay with Dixon until the auction?" Margaret asked as the horses began on their short journey to Marlborough Mills.

"That would be impossible. As your guardian, I must act in your best interest. Your mother would not approve of my leaving you here alone." Mrs. Shaw replied, her eyes not shifting from the window.

"I would have Dixon." Margaret began, then with her voice almost too quiet to make out the words, she continued, "this is my home. I wish to stay."

There was a long silence in which Margaret hoped that her aunt was considering her plea. Mrs. Shaw turned to face her young niece. "This does not have anything to do with the manufacturer that Henry has spoken of, does it?" Margaret had to keep herself from gasping, wondering what in the world Henry could have told her aunt about Mr. Thornton.

"It does." Margaret pulled her head back.

"You do not have an understanding with him, do you?" Aunt Shaw said. Margaret could feel her scrutinizing stare.

Margaret shook her head. "Not yet. But Aunt Shaw-"

Her aunt began before Margaret could continue. "Good, you need to come home and allow yourself time to mourn before we all help you to make these important decisions." Mrs. Shaw made an effort to calm herself by changing the subject. "Edith cannot wait for Sholto to meet you. He is a dear baby, handsome like his parents." Margaret attempted a smile, and remained disengaged throughout the remainder of the conversation, which consisted of the people of London, the weather of London and of course Henry Lennox of London.

Margaret had never been so relieved for a carriage ride to end as she had when they rode through the great green gates into the mill yard. As Margaret departed the carriage her eyes were immediately drawn to the window that she now knew to be Mr. Thornton's office. Every bit of nerve that she had disappeared, she did not know how she was going to do this.


	10. Books

**A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read, let me know what you think if you have a moment. This chapter has proven to be a challenge, but it is finally finished, yay! **

As they stepped out of the carriage into the mill yard, Margaret could feel her stomach begin to fold and knot upon itself. She and her aunt were welcomed into the Thornton home, and were soon met in the formal drawing room by Mrs. Thornton. She saw only Margaret first and allowed the slightest of smiles to form around the corners of her mouth. However, the moment that she saw the second woman her face fell back to her customary scowl. Mrs. Thornton understood that this well dressed woman must be Margaret's aunt. The very woman that her son had proclaimed would take Margaret back to London, and consequently his heart.

"Mrs. Thornton, this is my Aunt Shaw. She has come to-" Margaret could not finish the statement, but her Aunt quickly jumped in for her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Thornton. As Margaret's nearest relative, I am here to claim her and take her back to London with me. Milton has not been kind to her, as I am sure that you know." She turned a consoling eye toward Margaret. "I am here to help her say her goodbyes and we then we must be on our way." Her aunt's words ate at the very core of Margaret.

Margaret walked up to Mrs. Thornton and placed a hand upon her folded arms. She apologized for the way that she had spoken to her at their last meeting, at which Mrs. Thornton became slightly uncomfortable, knowing from her son that, as the young lady had professed, there was nothing untoward in her actions that evening.

Mrs. Thornton could not respond to Miss Hale's apology, as everything within her focused on John. There was ice in her tone. "You are planning to leave then, Miss Hale?" Margaret did not answer her question.

"Mrs. Thornton," Margaret said quietly, feeling ill at the request that she was to pose. "I need to speak to Mr. Thornton, alone if possible." Mrs. Thornton's features softened, even as her heart raced at the gauntlet of emotions that ran through her being. She did not know what would come of this meeting, but she knew that her son would wish it.

"He would appreciate that, I am sure. This morning he said that he would be in his office for most of the day." With a quick nod, Margaret excused herself from her aunt and Mrs. Thornton. As she slowly made her way through the mill yard, she attempted to plan the words that she would say to him. She felt the doubts that had consumed her this morning slowly begin to fade, replaced by the warmth of his hand, the softness of his wrist below her curious fingertips. Everything in her was grasping desperately at anything to keep her from being swept away to London against her will.

Once in the mill, she was almost immediately faced with Mr. Thornton's overseer. When she explained her errand, she was denied, Mr. Thornton had given him strict orders not to be disturbed today. Margaret turned and began to walk back to the house, defeat washing over her. Once she had made it to the yard, she remembered his plea the night before to come to see him if she ever were to visit. She thought that surely Mr. Thornton would make an exception and see her before she left. Margaret took a deep breath and turned back to the man, "I am sorry, but I need to see him. I will let myself up and take full responsibility for the intrusion."

Wallace looked down on the young lady, "Miss, I cannot let you up, it would be me taking the responsibility for it, not you. The best I can do is tell him that you came by."

This man proved to be very frustrating, "Could you just tell him that Miss Hale is here to see him, I am leaving and-

"I am sorry Miss, but like I said, I will tell him that you called." With that, the conversation was over. The overseer turned from her, but did not leave his post. Margaret looked up at the closed door for a moment longer before returning to her Aunt's side. Mrs. Thornton gave Margaret a very stern yet questioning look.

"He gave his overseer instruction not to allow anyone into his office today." Margaret said weakly. She offered her father's book to Mrs. Thornton. "Would you give this to him," She felt desperate for the right words. "Please let him know that I will be leaving this afternoon." Margaret took several shallow breaths, struggling to keep tears down. "He was going to visit tonight, I believe. Please let him know," Margaret looked down, not wishing to relay her goodbye through his mother. "That is all. Thank you, Mrs. Thornton." Mrs. Thornton nodded as she closed her heart to this young woman. She thought that surely she would have pressed further if John meant enough to her. With little left to say to each other, Mrs. Thornton bid Mrs. Shaw and her niece goodbye and watched them leave the Thornton home.

As the ladies were being helped into the carriage by the driver, Margaret heard a loud sound followed by a rush of employees leaving the mill. She realized that it must be some sort of midday break. Margaret told her aunt that she needed to make one last stop but would make it quickly. She left the carriage and walked toward the dining-room, happy to find Mary peeling potatoes for dinner. She gave the girl a sweet embrace and asked if she would relay her departure to her father. Before the sentence could fully leave Margaret's mouth, she heard Nicholas enter the little kitchen. She turned to fully face him.

"Nicholas, I was just telling Mary that I am leaving for London this afternoon. I have come to bid you farewell." Margaret could feel a single tear sliding down her cheek.

"We will miss you sorely, promise you that." Higgins replied.

"Please send the children my love, and," Margaret sifted through her little purse, ignoring Higgins' fervent protests. "You must take this, it is meant for them." She pulled him into a tender embrace. "Thank you for your friendship, Nicholas."

"And you, yours, to me and both of my girls. My Bess sure did love you." She could see moisture in his eyes. "Ah, as I said, you will be missed." He motioned up to the mill, "You been to see Thornton?"

Margaret took in a deep breath and looked toward Mr. Thornton's office window as she spoke. "I tried, but he will not be disturbed today." She tried to convince herself as well as him of her next words. "It is alright, I will be back soon, I am sure of it." Margaret could not bring herself to smile, and could not take her eyes off of that window. She swallowed hard and wondered when, or even if she would be able to return.

"When will you be leaving?" Higgins asked, taking note of Margaret's distraction.

"We leave this afternoon. I have my trunk to pack, yet." She finally brought her eyes back to him. "I will come to see you when I return." With that, they parted ways and Margaret and her aunt were soon on her way back to Crampton.

Mr. Thornton was frustrated. At the rate that things were going, no, he was not going to think in terms of the worst. He would pull through this. He had been given two names on his trip to Havre of potential investors, and felt that his next course of action must be to contact those men. Throwing on his Jacket, he headed toward the house to find the men's names and business addresses. On his way back to the mill, the men were returning to work from their luncheon break, making it difficult to hurry to his office and finish the task on his mind.

"Master!" Mr. Thornton turned to see who was calling his name. He finally spotted Higgins.

"Afternoon, Higgins. I don't have time to stop right now, I am very busy." Mr. Thornton never stopped walking, and by the end of his statement he was already at the base of the stairs.

"Wait." Higgins' single word sounded much like a command, causing Mr. Thornton to stop and impatiently turn to him.

"Well?" Mr. Thornton crossed his arms.

"Master, Miss Margaret left here, not an hour ago, with her aunt." Higgins finally told him. Mr. Thornton quickly closed much of the space between them.

"She was here? With her aunt, the aunt from London?" Mr. Thornton felt thoughts race through his mind at such a speed that he could not grasp any of them.

"Ay, she tried to come to see you, but you—" Mr. Thornton laughed bitterly, causing Higgins to stop mid sentence.

"I told Wallace not allow anyone up. Thank you, Higgins." Mr. Thornton turned back toward the house.

"She is leaving today, as soon as she packs her things." Without another thought, Mr. Thornton ran back into his home, and was quickly in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed and with shaking hands pulled the bible that he had thumbed through the previous evening. On a lower shelf, he grabbed a book and quickly flipped through the pages until the object that he was seeking showed itself. He had pressed one of the roses that he had collected in Helstone; he picked it up gently and placed it between the tissue-thin first pages of Genesis. With a deep breath, he stood and was on his way to Crampton.

Margaret stood in her room in front of the large oval mirror that had made its home in the corner of her room. Her aunt had come to check on her twice to ensure that progress was being made on her packing, but both times, thankfully, left her in peace with her thoughts after being assured that it would not be much longer. Staring ahead, she could see the reflection of the filled trunk, as well as all of the furniture that she had always known. She walked over to her little writing desk and rubbed her fingers lightly over the scorched wood in the center. She laughed slightly thinking about Fred challenging her to a duel after their father had read a few chapters of The Iliad to them before bed. She was Hector, or it was possible that he was, but Fred was certainly the one to knock over her reading light with his make-shift sword.

Every stick of furniture contained a memory, and the idea of selling it all at auction was sickening. She finally sought the last item that she wished to take with her. From the top of her dresser, she picked up Mr. Thornton's handkerchief. She ran her fingers over his embroidered initials once more before placing it in her trunk. She had meant to return it this morning when she went to see him, but could not bring herself to forfeit it to Mrs. Thornton. Her heart clinched as she thought about leaving Milton, leaving without seeing him once more, without explaining.

The instant that the trunk snapped shut, tears rolled down Margaret's face. She sat on the floor in front of a trunk holding everything that she had in the world, leaned her head on it and wept. After some time, the bedroom door slowly opened and Aunt Shaw walked in. She thought of Margaret as a daughter, and it broke her heart to see her so upset. Taking a seat upon the trunk, Mrs. Shaw placed her hand on Margaret's shoulder.

"It will be alright dear, you will see." With that, Margaret said nothing, but looked up at her aunt with a forced smile and stood. Taking one last look around her bedroom, Margaret walked downstairs and left her little home for what she thought to be the last time.

Thoroughly out of breath, Mr. Thornton made his way through the very familiar alleyway that led to the row of houses containing the Hale's. He could finally see the porch that led to her front door, there was a moment of relief when he noticed the carriage outside, signaling that he was not too late. He saw two young men carrying a trunk and placing it on the back of the vehicle, and then to his dismay, he saw Margaret and her aunt leave the house and walk toward the carriage.

As Margaret pulled herself up onto the first step of the carriage, she was stopped by pressure on her arm, causing her to step back down on firm ground. The sight of Mr. Thornton, breathless and windblown, holding her arm, was unexpected and very welcome. A genuine smile overcame her.

"I thought that I would miss you." Mr. Thornton said while forcing himself to steady his breathing. Aunt Shaw had moved closer to them, but neither noticed.

"Your mother told you that I came to see you?" Margaret asked. She did not care why or how he had come, only that he was here, right now. Leaving him without a word would have been her greatest regret.

"It was actually Higgins." He said with a coy smile, "He seems to be becoming quite indispensible."

"I suppose that you have me to thank for sending him to you." Margaret returned his light hearted manner, despite her heart feeling quite the opposite. His features suddenly became very serious.

"I do thank you. Margaret, I could not bear it if I had missed you." Margaret noticed Aunt Shaw's proximity, and noted that it would be much more convenient to have this conversation inside.

"Aunt Shaw, this is Mr. Thornton." They greeted one another. "I need to speak to him for a moment. We will be in the downstairs drawing room. Aunt Shaw obliged, but did not seem happy about the prospect. Margaret took Mr. Thornton's proffered arm and let him lead her inside. Once they entered the little room, Margaret closed the door. She looked at him with a nervousness that she had never felt before.

"You must be very busy, at the mill, I mean." Margaret said, eager to fill the silence.

"We are busy, and lately it seems that as soon as I start to make progress there is an interruption. To tell you the truth, I asked Wallace not to disturb me today so that I could finish everything that I needed to do early. I wanted have plenty of time to see you tonight. There was obviously a flaw in my plan." Mr. Thornton walked up to her and took her hand within his, he was pleased that it was freely given. Looking at the contrast between her porcelain skin against his well worn hands, he continued. "It has been a difficult day, and knowing that I would see you tonight has been the only thing getting me through it." He looked back at her.

Margaret gave his words time to settle in. She did not know whether they should please her or cause this overwhelming feeling of guilt. "Oh." She could find no other words. It seemed to Margaret that today, Mr. Thornton was now the one with eloquent words in her presence while she was not able to form a complete sentence. The last time they had stood alone in this room, it was quite the opposite.

"So, you are leaving?" He asked. His words flowed like silk, but she could sense the eagerness behind them.

"Mr. Thornton, I must." Her eyes begged for understanding. "My aunt is my guardian now. She is taking me to London and I must obey her wishes." Margaret understood that it sounded like a weak argument, but she had no means, and her aunt was her closest family. She did not have a choice.

"And what of your wishes?" He did not speak loudly, aware of the other women in the house, but there was a stern desperation behind his words. Margaret looked away from him.

"I must go."

Mr. Thornton dropped her hand and walked to the closed window, as if it would allow him to breathe a little easier. His hands were on either side bracing himself, he was certain that the support of this wall was the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. "So, this is goodbye, then?" She did not respond.

Mr. Thornton had just found the hope of a future filled with love and happiness, and he did not know if he could stomach to lose that dream again. "You would not consider staying," He said, turning his head to peer over his shoulder. "Staying here?"

Margaret could not stand it. She felt as though her heart was ripping in two. She walked over to him, placing a hand on one of his outstretched arms. Mr. Thornton lowered it and turned to her. "I would like to stay, but I cannot, not yet. Please try to understand."

He did not understand. Mr. Thornton cleared his throat and began to pace the small room. "When are you leaving?" As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. She was leaving until he arrived.

"My bag is already on the carriage." Margaret had not realized how difficult this was going to be. "Dixon will stay to ready the house for the auction. I believe that it will be held in three weeks."

Mr. Thornton let out a laugh with his next breath. "Now there is irony if I have ever heard it." He smiled at her. "You, leaving for London while Dixon remains in Milton." His breath caught as he took both of her hands in his own. "Margaret, is there nothing that I can do to convince you to stay?" His eyes tried to read hers, but her thoughts were as unreadable to him as they were to Margaret, herself.

She told herself that she had no choice, as her aunt had all but told her earlier, but something within her screamed that she was wrong. She walked across the room and folded her arms around her middle, hoping to quell the need to be held that was consuming her at the moment. "This is for the best, you will see." She tried to pick up her voice, but was unconvincing even to herself.

He walked over to the writing desk and sat on its edge. "When will I see you again?"

"I do not know, Mr. Thornton." He also felt his skin crawl every time she called him 'Mr. Thornton,' and he did not know why. That is what she had always called him. He quickly came to the bitter realization that it was because she was going away to London, the home of a man that obviously cares for her, and with whom she is on first name terms.

"Miss Hale," He had not addressed her as such all day, and both noticed. "I wish to leave you with something." He walked over to the small table by the entryway and picked up the book that he had placed there when they walked in. He handed it to her and was half hoping that she would open it now, but knew that if she did, she would likely still have to leave.

Margaret looked down at the bible and wondered why he would wish for her to have it. She ran her fingers over his name that had been pressed into the leather cover and quietly said it aloud. "John Thornton." A smile came to Mr. Thornton's face to hear his first name come from her lips, even if it was followed by his surname and read aloud rather than spoken to him. "I cannot take this from you. I certainly cannot leave you without one." Margaret attempted to hand it back.

"I will not be without, this is my personal book, we have a family bible." Mr. Thornton would not take it back from her, and worried that this may not have been the best choice.

"My father was a parson, surely you know that we have plenty of bibles around." Margaret continued her argument. The ungraciousness of her words struck her as soon as they left her mouth.

"Well, you do not have mine." He sighed. "I want you to have something from Milton that will bring you comfort." He paused for a moment, happy to not see the book coming toward him once more. "Please take it, I insist." Mr. Thornton could see that she was conceding. She smiled at him.

"Well, if you are to be so insistent upon something, I suppose that I must grant it." Margaret said and noticed that his demeanor changed almost immediately. His eyes grew dark and he pulled the book from her hand and set it on a nearby table.

As he stepped closer to her, her heart began to race. He took her face in both of his hands. "Then, Margaret, may I insist that you stay." His voice, his words moved her. He was uncomfortably close.

Her aunt called from the parlor. Mr. Thornton sighed and began to pull away from her. Margaret placed one of her hands over his and pressed it there for a moment. She lowered her head and Mr. Thornton rested his arms at his side. She met his eyes once more. "Mr. Thornton, I want you to know," She paused, breathing a nervous laugh. "I wish for you to know that my mother is not the only part of me that will remain in Milton." He tried to read the meaning in her words, but was stopped when Margaret's aunt called once more. Margaret looked at him and said, "I should go now."

He looked at her with a pained smile. "May I walk you out?"

"I would like that." Margaret replied. They were silent as they left the Hale home, Mr. Thornton helped both Margaret and her aunt into the carriage, and they said goodbye one last time.

Mr. Thornton watched from the Hale's porch as the carriage pulled away. He saw her turn and look back at him through the carriage window, which only managed to intensify his longing.


	11. Alone

Thank you for your patience, I have had a death in my family and have been out of state all week.

This is my longest chapter so far, but only because I want to get to the good stuff quicker! Without further ado, here is the next chapter.

Alone

They did not arrive in time for dinner as the Aunt Shaw had hoped. The majority of the trip to London Margaret rode in silence, Mr. Thornton's gift in her hands and the memory of his words to keep her company. She had last left ninety-six Harley Street just after Edith's wedding. There was a strange familiarity that she felt as she entered the grand foyer once more, it was somewhat comforting yet strangely alienating at the same time. She had never felt quite so out of place.

Margaret was shown to her room. On the way down the little hall, she passed the nursery and remembered a similar night over ten years ago, her first night away from her parents. Crying desperately, she was hushed by the nursemaid, so as not to wake her sleeping cousin. She remembered that when her father came in to ensure that she was alright, she pretended to be asleep. She told herself to be brave, and not let him see the horrible grief that she was feeling after being displaced from the only home that she had ever known. As the months passed, the crying became less and less, and though the heartache lessened, it never left.

Once in her room, she looked around at the grandness that surrounded her, however, no amount of luxury could fill the emptiness that was all consuming. Margaret walked over to the lush four poster bed and sat upon the freshly changed linens. With Mr. Thornton's bible still in hand, she allowed her tears to fall fast and uninhibited. There was no one to hush her on this day, and no one that she had to be brave for. She simply did not have the mettle to restrain herself tonight. As her tears fell, her hand traced the letters embossed on the book's leather cover until every hill and valley had been memorized by her trembling fingers.

She felt as though her heart was broken. On the drive here, she had replayed every look, every word, and every touch through her mind. She did not know what he meant to her, but she knew that she had felt whole in his presence, that he cared for her, that he listened to what she had to say. He stood by here when she needed him, comforting, listening, and never mentioning the horrible insults that she had thrown at him the day after the riot. How easily she had deceived herself. Fresh tears dripped from her chin as she tried to push these thoughts from her mind. Her life was set on a new path now, and she had to make the best of it.

There was a knock on her door. Margaret dried her tears and was faced with a servant asking her to join the family in the Parlor. She assured the young woman that she would be right down. Looking in the mirror, she hoped to lessen the evidence of her crying spell, which seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

Margaret entered the Parlor in a different gown than she had arrived in at her aunt's request, but she did not feel the least bit refreshed. She was immediately greeted by Edith, and felt truly happy to see her. The cousins, who were practically raised as sisters, shared a warm embrace.

"Margaret, I wish that you were here just a bit earlier and you would have been able to meet my dear Sholto, oh how you will love him." Edith gushed over her son, genuinely upset that Margaret had not come earlier.

"I will be very pleased to meet him in the morning." Margaret did not feel up to socializing this evening, and wanted nothing more than to be alone in her room. That was not true, she wanted much more than to be alone in her room, but that would suffice at this moment.

Edith gave Margaret an eager smile and said, "I am glad that you did not come any later, however, or you might have missed Henry. What a lovely coincidence that he stopped by this evening." As Henry approached her, Margaret was certain that his presence was nothing of a coincidence. In fact, she thought that if she had arrived in the dead of night, or at dawn, that Henry would have conveniently stopped by.

She extended her hand to greet him, which he and Edith looked at her questioningly. Before Henry could extend his, Margaret quickly retracted it and attempted to explain. "I am sorry, you see, in Milton, the handshake is a customary greeting."

"Interesting, even between a lady and a gentleman?" Edith asked, obviously disapproving of such a familiar gesture.

"Yes, it took me quite a while to get used to, myself." Margaret answered.

Edith guestured at her husband, and the two left Henry and Margaret for the sitting area. Henry was standing quite close and offered his hand to her. "Well, if it is what you are accustomed to, who am I to allow formality to stand between us." Margaret took his hand, but as she tried to pull hers back, he held it tight. "Perhaps there are some good things to come from the north." He wore his most charming smile.

Margaret freed her hand from Henry's grasp. She threw her head back in a way that she knew made her appear regal. "There are many wonderful things in the north, Mr. Lennox."

"Well, it has lost one of its greatest assets today." Margaret offered him a smile, but was not comfortable with the intensity of his stare, and found a reason to create some space between them.

"Edith," Margaret said, walking further in the room near the davenport that Edith and Captain Lennox now shared. "Tell me more about Corfu. I know that you were very busy at the time, but I did not hear a terrible lot of your adventures in your letters." Margaret chose a seat, and rather than sitting, Henry chose to stand, his hand resting upon the back of her chair. While Edith was telling of the events that transpired on their wedding tour, Margaret allowed herself to think of Mr. Thornton, specifically how pleased she would be if he were standing behind her chair at this moment.

"-Margaret, did you hear me?" Edith broke her cousin's daydream, and her visions turned back to reality.

"I am sorry, what was that?" Margaret said, slightly embarrassed.

"I said that you should go to Corfu on your wedding tour, when that time comes of course. It was all very romantic." Margaret felt several sets of eyes upon herself.

"I will not be thinking of such a thing for a _very_ long time, Edith." Edith thought that Margaret's words were cold; it was as if she was intentionally trying to discourage Henry. "Edith, Captain Lennox, Henry, it has been a long day and I am afraid that I need to excuse myself for the evening." After bidding everyone a good night, Margaret retired to the solace of her bedroom, pulled Mr. Thornton's book from the bedside drawer and quietly cried herself into the early morning hours.

John Thornton woke the morning after Margaret left feeling nothing. He had spent most of the night trying to make sense of everything. After his failed proposal, he could at least live knowing that his caring for her was futile, and at that time he could try, though he failed, to turn his feelings to hatred. Now, he did not know what Margaret felt exactly, but the hope that she had given him before leaving placed him in his own personal purgatory. He had promised to give her time and he would stand by that promise, but when he made it he had hoped that he could spend some part of everyday of that time with her. Now he did not even know when he would see her again.

He left for the mill without breakfast that morning, he could not face his mother, could not answer her questions. After spending the majority of the day working on machines and overseeing his men, he was able to slip into his office just before the end of the work day to carry on with his paperwork and write the letters that he had meant to send the previous day.

John was stopped by the persistent growling of his stomach. Pulling his watch from his pocket, he was surprised to see that it was approaching midnight and decided that it was time to return home, find something to eat and go to sleep. He was not at all surprised to find all of the servants had turned in for the night. He rooted through the kitchen until he found something palatable. After lighting a single candle he sat himself at the head of the large dining room table, simply out of habit.

"John?" Mr. Thornton was shocked out of the hypnotizing silence that had surrounded him. He turned to see his mother, but could not bring himself to say anything. "You are in awfully late, is everything alright?"

He felt the pain anew, his mother must think that he has spent the evening in Crampton, as he had not said a word to her of Margaret's departure. He could not discuss it now. "I am sorry if I woke you, Mother."

"You did not wake me. Fanny came by this afternoon to discuss Mr. Watson's investment opportunity. Have you thought that over, John?" Mrs. Thornton thought about telling him of Miss Hale's departure, but as he had planned to go over there this evening, he had certainly discovered it for himself.

"So, now he has sent Fanny to do his bidding." John was no longer hungry. "I have already told him that I will not be a part of it, and I stand by my decision." John said feeling a sting of bitterness.

"Do you not think that you should at least consider it? If it succeeds, it would solve everything." Mrs. Thornton said. She knew that she would stand by her son through any decision that he made.

"And if it fails? What then? I would risk other men's money. I cannot and will not do that." He ran a hand through his hair. "If I am to lose everything, I will do it with a clear conscience."

"Are things really so bad?" She asked her son, afraid of the answer.

"I am afraid so, mother." John stood with his plate and walked over to her, a hand on her shoulder. "I have written two possible investors. We can pray that one of those come through, I'm afraid that is all that we can do at the moment." He kissed his mother's forehead and started for the kitchen.

"John?"

"Yes, Mother?" He stopped and looked at her.

She looked at the buffet and saw the book that Miss Hale had left for him and thought about telling him of it. Given his current mood, and the time, she changed her mind. "Never mind, goodnight John."

"Goodnight, Mother."

Edith saw Sholto's nursemaid in the hall and immediately asked why she had left the nursery.

"Miss Hale said that I might leave her with Master Sholto." The nurse did not add that Margaret suggested that she enjoy herself and take a small break while she care for the little one.

Edith consented and joined Margaret. Sholto had recently taken his first steps and was very eager to walk on his own. Margaret held his hands, and allowed him to lead her all throughout the room that she had shared with Edith so long ago.

"He is a dear, Edith, you were not mistaken." Margaret said as she and her sweet nephew toddled to his mother.

"I knew that you would adore him. Henry is quite taken with him as well, I think." Edith said, watching Margaret's unchanged expression.

Extending one hand to his mother, Sholto led the ladies to a basket filled with balls and small toys. Margaret took a seat directly on the rug while Edith pulled an ottoman nearby and, after straightening her gown, floated down upon it. Margaret had forgotten the beauty and grace that Edith possessed, and sat in awe of it. As Sholto passed toys back and forth to his newfound aunt, Edith began to her inquisition.

"I simply cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have you home." Margaret felt her heart clinch at her cousin's last word.

"I am glad to be here as well." Margaret had to admit that having the company of her nephew did lighten the load on her heart just a fraction.

Edith gave Margaret a coy smile, "I think that Henry is happy to have you here as well."

"I have no doubt that he is Edith, but I wish that you would not encourage him." Margaret did care for Henry, and she did not want to hurt him again.

Edith pouted, "Oh, let me, dear cousin. He cares ever so much for you, and perhaps if you were to marry Henry, we could all live together in one big house. How Sholto would love that." Margaret knew that the sooner Edith realized that this was not a possibility, the better this would all be.

Margaret laughed, "Let me first say that comfortable living arrangements should never be a motive for marriage." Sholto climbed into his aunt's lap and played with the edges of her skirt. Margaret continued with an air of seriousness. "Edith, I care about Henry, he is a good friend, but I will never marry him. Please understand that." She wished much more from a marriage than mutual fondness.

"Oh, Pish Posh, Margaret, never say never." Edith said lightly.

"Edith, I do mean it," Edith turned from Margaret and pouted, Margaret sighed before continuing, "But we need not speak of it any further if you would prefer." Edith quickly changed their discussion to the calls that they would make this afternoon.

Five days after Margaret had left for London Mr. Thornton sat up in his bed with an ache that he had become so accustomed to that he was certain it would never dissipate. His nights and days were beginning to meld into one as he tried desperately to save his mill. When he walked into the dining room, he ordered breakfast and paced the floors, as he did not wish to sit anymore than necessary today.

His eyes caught on a foreign object sitting upon the buffet. He walked to it with much haste and his hands shook slightly as they lifted the coveted object. John did not notice his mother enter the room, but soon saw her shadow fall over the book in his hands.

"Margaret?" He asked in a near whisper

"Yes." Mrs. Thornton answered, a lump had formed in her throat.

"When?"

"The day that she left." John turned to her in complete disbelief.

"How could you not have given this to me, not told me that she had been here?" He spoke forcefully. "Why did you not come to get me that day?" He stepped back, looking at her in bewilderment.

"John, do not be cross with me. She came with her aunt and was leaving, I sent her to you, but when she came back not having seen you. I thought it was best to not tell you right away." She looked him in the eyes. "I did not want you rushing after her, risking your heart once more."

John turned away from her, "You thought what, that it would be better for me to go see her that evening only to find that she had left?" She started to respond, but John felt a slight pang of guilt at his question and stopped her. "I did see her before she left, despite your help." He walked to the door, book in tow.

"Wait, John, you need to eat breakfast?" He stopped and turned to her.

"I need to go, do not wait up."

"I am sorry, I should have told you." She was truly sorry. "I thought that I was doing right by you."

"You should have told me, but it is no matter." He turned back, but paused with his hand on the door knob. "It would not have changed anything, and there is nothing that either of us can do about it now."

After an afternoon of sitting in several grand drawing rooms, speaking of textiles, new gowns, and other such fineries that she had no interest in, Margaret wanted nothing more than to take a light stroll about town. Aunt Shaw had made it clear over this past week that she did not approve of her walking alone, but she was in the middle of a nap, and would not know of Margaret's excursion until her return. She had gotten it into her mind to go when Henry came to call. She met him in the foyer while buttoning her best coat.

"Are you going somewhere Margaret?" Henry asked, hat in hand.

"I was just leaving to take a short walk through town. We have been indoors for most of the day, and I am in need of a little fresh air." Margaret said as she walked to the door.

"May I accompany you? I am certain that your aunt would prefer you to not walk alone." Henry offered his and a smile.

"You are right, I am sure." Margaret said as she took it, resigning herself to more company than the thoughts that she wished to employ.

They walked quietly for quite some time.

"I am glad to have you home, Margaret." He said, slightly slowing their pace.

Margaret looked at him, stopping for a moment on the busy walkway. "Henry, this is not home."

"Where is home, then?" He asked, searching her face. Her silence we all that Henry needed to know and it upset him. "This could be your home. You were happy here once, were you not?"

"I was." Margaret told him. They continued down their previous path. He wished desperately that she would make this easier for him. She steered them into a public garden. Margaret reflected on how beautiful this place was in the spring, she could imagine the lush greens and the sweet perfumes of the flowers.

"I am very sorry about your parents, Margaret." Henry told her.

She looked to him with a sidelong glance, "Thank you, as am I." Neither spoke for some time. Margaret had always been close to Henry and they had taken this exact stroll countless times, but everything felt strained today.

"Edith is a fine mother. My brother did very well, if I may say." Margaret's eyes remained on the path and did not waiver.

"I will agree with you, I met Sholto this morning. He is a fine boy. Edith said that he was quite taken with you as well." Margaret added.

Henry looked down at Margaret. "I do enjoy his company now and again."

There was a bench in a small clearing which Henry led her to as she spoke. "Children are wonderful. They bring joy, even in the most miserable, or desolate of circumstances."

Henry sat after Margaret. "How do you mean." He asked, wondering if Margaret may consider herself in such circumstances.

She recounted her memories. "Well, Sholto was very uplifting this morning. He helped take my mind off of things." Margaret sighed, and then what could almost be considered a smile came to her face. "When I lived in Milton, I had a friend, Nicholas Higgins. He took in six children, siblings, all of varying ages and though they had nothing, they always seemed happy. They were so very poor, but when I came to see them, no matter what I brought, I always felt that I left with so much more. I feel that children have so much love in their little hearts, and they give it so freely."

Henry could not help but smile upon Margaret, he had never met a woman quite like her. "That was very good of you, to visit the less fortunate as you did." He made a motion as if to take her hand, Margaret instinctively pulled it to her lap and out of reach. "You are a woman of supreme character, Margaret."

"I would not say that." She looked off into the horizon.

"I would." Henry's tone was unwanted, one that she had heard from him on several occasions. She quickly stood and took a turn around the little garden, Henry close behind.

"This is a beautiful park, do you not think?" She tried to find an innocuous topic.

Henry walked slowly behind her, "You cannot find anything like it in the north, I would venture to think."

She looked at him and spoke, memories softened her face. "There is beauty in Milton, but you must look harder than you would if you were in London or Helstone." Margaret turned back, leaving the garden. Henry offered his arm once more.

"Margaret, I would like for you to be happy in London." She could not respond to him. She wanted more than anything to be happy, but could not see that happening here.

"We need go back, Henry." Margaret said, taking the proffered arm.

"Certainly." As they turned back toward Harley street, a lovely winter breeze swept over them. She did have to admit to herself that the weather here was far more palatable than the stinging chill of the north. Henry continued. "To think, Margaret, the last time that you were here, we were at Edith's wedding," He glanced at her. "Now that was a grand event."

"It certainly was. I have only been to one other that could approach it in fineness." She responded.

Henry was pleased by this change of topic. "Whose was that?"

"Fanny Thornton, you have met her brother-" Before she could continue her thought, Henry interjected.

"John Thornton, yes I remember." He spoke flatly. How could he possibly forget _that_ man?

"They put on a very fine affair, though not quite the grandness of Edith's, it was very nice." Margaret said.

Henry had never heard her speak of Fanny Thornton and wondered how close she and Margaret were. "Were you heavily involved in that wedding as well?" He asked, silently wondering if Margaret was there on the arm of the brother.

Margaret laughed slightly at the thought of Fanny asking her help. "I was merely a guest. I find that they are much more enjoyable when you are not so involved in them."

Henry's paused a moment and cleared his throat. "I am sure that that is not always the case."

Margaret ignored Henry's comment "Edith certainly kept me very busy, but I was intent on maintaining her happiness."

Henry stopped and turned to face her. "You will have to ask the same of her when it is your turn."

"Henry, we are friends, and I value our friendship, but in order to maintain it you must not speak to me in this way." Margaret said, rendering Henry speechless. She felt cruel, but after a full week of such comments, she felt it necessary to put a stop to them. The rest of their walk was spent in silence.

Margaret saw her life stretch out before her in an endless monotony of balls, social calls and mindless conversation. She was never allowed to venture out on her own, and her own personal domain was encapsulated within four ever shrinking walls. Margaret was told when she should be awake, and an acceptable time to retire to her room. She loved her aunt and cousin dearly, but she felt trapped.

Edith never ceased to throw Henry's name into every conversation, he attended dinner more frequently than he was absent, and the majority of his leisure time was spent in his brother's home. Margaret's friendship with Henry was growing along with her trust in him, but she strived to never be in his presence alone if she could help it. Their conversation in the park had helped silence Henry's verbal advances, but his consistent presence and focused attentions were not beyond Margaret's perception.

When she was alone, Margaret would take to her room. Mr. Thornton's bible always sat beside her when she would lie in bed. As she ran her fingers over his name her eyes would close, and she would try to remember the feel of her hand in his, or the softness of the tender side of his wrist. She would wonder what it would feel like to have him in the room with her, sharing her deepest thoughts. On the first days in her new home, Margaret tried to push these thoughts away, but as the days slowly crept by, she embraced her memories and desires. Every night, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, she could almost feel his arms about her, comforting, reassuring.

After a week and a half in London, Margaret thought about the letter that she had never sent to Mr. Bell. She decided that it was time to write another, wondering if he had heard of her new situation. He had told her to come to him if she should ever need anything. She walked over to the small sitting area near the fireplace in her room and began to write.

_Mr. Bell, _

_I am writing to let you know that I am safe and well. My Aunt Shaw has claimed me and I have been brought to her home. In London the air is fresh and crisp. I am not wanting for company, as I am surrounded by fine ladies of London society. Edith has taken it upon herself to ensure that I am dressed properly, and although I often feel much like a doll, I am very well cared for. I have a wonderful nephew, he has been my joy and solace in these trying times. I miss you, and long for the company of home. If you do travel to Milton, please send my warmest wishes to our shared acquaintances; please let me know how they are doing as well. I hope that you will visit soon._

_Sincerely, _

_Margaret Hale_

Margaret went through four drafts before she decided upon these words. As she reread the short missive, she thought that it did not sound like her, but it was only fitting as she did not feel much like herself these days.

Maternal instinct is a curious thing. Mrs. Thornton would never consider herself to be a light sleeper, however, when they were growing up, the slightest sound made by either of her children had always stirred her. Only recently did she come to realize that the absence of sound was much more alarming.

The sun was just allowing its first rays to be seen over the horizon, softening what had only been moments ago, the black of night. John had been working well into the night over the past two weeks, but she had always heard him come in. As Mrs. Thornton sat up in bed, she felt that there was something different about this night, and it filled her with worry.

Slipping into her dressing robe, she walked to the master suite of rooms at the other end of the house. After softly knocking and receiving no answer, she quietly opened the door and found that his bed had not been disturbed. Mrs. Thornton swiftly traveled back to her room, found shoes and her shawl and was on her way to the mill.

She could see the small flickering of candlelight in his office window as she entered the mill yard, allowing herself to let out a breath that she did not realize she had been holding in. As she traveled up the stairs, she thought that she should have brought a coat rather than simply a shawl, as the winter chill was fierce this early in the morning. She opened John's office door to find him sound asleep, his upper body draped over his desk, pen still in hand. Her heart ached at the sight. She removed her shawl and draped it over his shoulders.

She went to snuff the candle when she looked back at her dear boy. She thought about how few years he has had in his life without strife, worry and heartache in one form or another. She knew that the mill, her son's crowning achievement, would soon be lost. He had worked his entire life for his position and success, and now, it was only a matter of months. With a heavy heart, Mrs. Thornton wished that he had someone to share his sorrow, someone that he could speak with in a way that he would not to her. As she extinguished the single flame and her son's image faded into the shadows, Mrs. Thornton walked back to the house. From the front porch she glanced up to the now dark office window and wished that he were not so…alone.


	12. Discoveries

**A/N: Here is Chapter 12. I hope that you enjoy, if so, please let me know! I have enjoyed writing this chapter, but I am enjoying the next much more! Thank you for reading – Mere.**

Discoveries

Margaret had now lived at 96 Harley Street for two full weeks and had learned that there was definite rhythm of her days. Upon awakening, a maid would be waiting to dress her for the day. Once her corset was laced, she was clothed and her hair was in place, Margaret would show herself into the nursery where she would play with Sholto for a short period of time before being called to breakfast. After eating, calls would begin. On Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, the three ladies left the house to make calls. Margaret looked forward to these days much more so than Monday and Wednesday, when they would wait for others to call on them. On days that they would leave for calls, she at least had the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air before spending well into the afternoon indoors. The late afternoon, before dinner, was leisure time. If she wished to take a walk, she must be accompanied by a footman if there was no one in the house wished to take one as well.

Dinners were generally held in the formal dining room, and Henry had become quite the regular fixture. Everyone would speak idly about the day's events, which, to Margaret, seemed to mirror the previous day which in turn seemed much like the one before that. Edith and Aunt Shaw would take turns recounting the calls that they had made, or those that had been paid to the house, forcing Margaret to relive the tedium once over. Captain Lennox, a true man of leisure while in London, would briefly touch on the events at his gentleman's club. Margaret hated to admit it, but Henry was generally the only person that ever had anything of interest to add to the conversation.

The monotony of her life had become suffocating. It was difficult to remember what day of the week it was, as she seemed to replay the same one over and over, and then over once more for good measure. Every night, Margaret opened the little drawer next to her bed and removed Mr. Thornton's bible. She would curl on her side, almost encircling the book and run her fingers over his name as she had at least a thousand times before. She sighed at the thought of the conversations that they had shared, and the closeness that she felt to him in only a few days time.

Margaret thought over the events that had led to her coming here, to her spending her evenings with a book that she did not read. She remembered just after her father had passed, overcoming her pride as she walked into the office at Marlborough Mills and opened the gates of communication. She was unkind to him soon after, possibly out of habit, but for once having the nerve to apologize. When she woke on his shoulder in the carriage, she remembered the feeling of his warmth that she did not want to separate from, as that touch had been the only thing that had had the ability to break through her new hardened exterior and reconnect her to the outside world. Tears began to coast down Margaret's cheeks as she remembered their conversations, simple words that not only formed a bond to a man that she would never have imagined herself with, but that made her understand that she did not die with her parents. Mr. Thornton brought feeling back to her through his honest words and gentle touch.

Tears came hard and fast as she remembered the day that she had left. He had begged her not to leave, but she made her decision, one which she doubted a hundred times a day. She pulled her knees to her chest and reminded herself that she had no means of support, nothing to sustain her living in Milton. What choice did she have? These thoughts were quickly overtaken. Margaret could practically feel the heat of his hands on her cheeks insisting that she stay, his blue eyes searching hers, trying to find an answer within her own. Margaret's buried her head in her pillow to cover the sounds of the sobs. She did not know whether it had been strength or weakness on her part to leave him, but she knew for certain that it was the most difficult decision that she had ever made.

Margaret had reasoned with herself that he had asked her to stay, but he did not ask her to be his wife. She hated herself for that rationalization, because she was certain that if she had said the word, or given him the slightest encouragement, that he would have asked.

She had thought about it, she had tried to imagine what she would have said if he proposed that day, and she honestly did not know the answer. If she had said yes, if Margaret had married him, she would never know if it was truly because she loved him, or because she was desperate not to return to London. Mr. Thornton deserved better than that. He deserved to have a wife that loves him, one that knew what she wanted. He deserved so much more than what she could offer him right now.

The following morning, Margaret awoke after a fitful sleep. While her hair was being tamed, she noticed the swelling beneath her eyes and was upset that she had allowed herself to wallow in her pity and poor decisions as she had done the night before. No amount of tears could change her circumstances.

Margaret had prepared herself for another day of calls, but was pleasantly surprised to find a disruption in the day's routine. After sitting with Sholto and eating breakfast, a visitor was announced for her. Margaret was shown into the informal drawing room, one of her favorite public rooms in the house, second only to the library. Mr. Bell stood before her and she had never been quite so happy to see his familiar face.

He accepted Margaret into his embrace, and held her close while speaking. "It is so good to see you, my dear." Margaret pulled from him and the first true smile that she had worn in two weeks shone on her face. "I received your letter and came straight away. You know that I would do anything in my power to see you happy." He gave her a knowing smile. "I am detecting that you are not, certainly not at the moment."

Margaret could not help the unshed tears moistening her eyes, threatening to fall free. "I am so glad that you are here, and I am not truly unhappy, certainly not now." She led him over to the sofa and sat with him, not wishing to break the warmness that they were sharing. "I know that I will get through this, I think that it," She sighed. "it is only a matter of time." Margaret finished looking down, not quite certain that her words were true. She was slowly becoming aware that, though she was in London, her thoughts were nearly always in Milton.

Mr. Bell knew that there was nothing that he could offer her that would remove her from this desolation, but he thought that he could try once more to open her eyes. "Margaret," He placed his hand over hers. "Is it a matter of time, or a matter of circumstance?" She began to say something, but Mr. Bell continued. "If you had unlimited means and opportunities that would allow you to do anything in the world, what would you do, where would you go?" He leaned in, "without anything holding you back, where would your heart take you?"

Margaret looked up at him, her eyes wide at the question. She had thought many times that her situation was not fair, but it was unique to her, something that that no amount of means or opportunities would change. Her thoughts went to Helstone at a time when her little family was intact. She remembered sitting around the kitchen table, or running through the forest with her brother. She would not be happy there now. Without those that made it a home, it would simply be an empty dwelling. She briefly thought of Cadiz, but her mind took her elsewhere. Margaret could not suppress her blush as she thought of her last week in Milton. A place that she had once hated, felt friendless and alone. The very town in which she had lost both of her parents. She wondered how, after everything that she had suffered, she could consider that place home. She gasped slightly as remembered Mr. Thornton holding her, insisting that she stay.

Margaret stood quickly and began to pace the room. "I do not know." She quickly said, as if she waited too long Mr. Bell was liable to read her thoughts. She did know. With unlimited means, and nothing to hold her back, she would return to Crampton. She would allow things to return as they had been in the days before her departure.

"Well, I mean for you to find out." Mr. Bell said with a laugh and examining look.

Margaret looked at him quizzically, "How do you mean?" He motioned for her to return to the seat next to him, and she did so willingly.

Mr. Bell gave Margaret a pained smile. "As you know, your father was my dearest, oldest friend. He loved you dearly, Margaret, you were his comfort and his joy after your mother passed away. When we were in Oxford, we spoke more of you than of any other topic."

Margaret brought a trembling hand to her face, "Did you?" This statement from Mr. Bell meant more to her than any gift that he could possibly bestow upon her.

"We did. I hope that you understand that I love you as well, I think of you very much as I would any child of my own, perhaps better, for nothing so good could come from me." He laughed a bit at his own expense. "There is no one that I am more proud of, more honored to know." He watched as tears began to pour down her cheeks and produced a handkerchief for her to dry them. "You are so strong, and loyal, and very deserving. Your father and I had discussed this before his passing, and we agreed that you would be my sole heir. My wish is to sign the bulk of my money and properties over to you now, when it can do you the most good." He heard Margaret gasp, but continued before she could interrupt. "I only need speak with Henry, if he is acting as your lawyer, and everything will be available for you by the end of the week."

Margaret's mouth was agape, she could hardly believe what he was telling her. "Yes, I suppose that it is only right for Henry to be my lawyer, but, but no, I refuse this offer. I could not, I _would_ not." Margaret could not imagine why Mr. Bell would wish to do such a thing, especially now.

With his coy smile, Mr. Bell placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ah, you can, and you will, for it has already been decided. It will do me good to live out my last days knowing that you are settled." He sighed.

"Mr. Bell?" Margaret said, hoping that she had heard him incorrectly.

Mr. Bell patted her hand. It was a humbling realization that sitting before him was the person dearest to him in all of the world. He knew that one day she would make someone very happy, as simply having the honor of being her godfather had been one of his greatest joys in life. "I am afraid that I do not have much longer, oh please do not fret, I have lived a long life, and have wanted for nothing." He allowed his eyes to meet hers, which was not his wont. "My dying wish is to see you happy before I go," he smiled at her. "Therefore, you had better start working at it."

Margaret squeezed his hand. "Oh, Mr. Bell, you are too good."

"No, Margaret, that is you." He stood and walked to a window, his back to her. "You know, I hate to hand _all_ of my properties over to you, especially knowing the burden that you will have before you."

"How do you mean?" Margaret asked.

"One of my Milton tenants, in particular, is not faring well. I am afraid that their business may not survive much longer. I hate to leave you with the nasty business of finding a new occupant right after taking the property over." He spoke calm and clear, shaking his head to emphasize the encumbrance that this would be.

"Oh dear." Margaret began, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, and a maid entering with a tea tray. As Margaret began to prepare Mr. Bell's tea, she continued her query. "Is it anyone that I should know?" Margaret brought his tea to him, which he gratefully accepted.

"Thank you, you always make it exactly as I like it." Mr. Bell savored another sip of the refreshment before continuing. "Ah, yes, you know him quite well. The property in question is Marlborough Mills." Margaret was in the process of pouring her tea when his words stole her breath. She sat in the nearest chair, as she felt that her knees could no longer support her. "Is everything alright, Margaret?" Mr. Bell was at her side in a moment. She was still holding the tea pot, which he gently removed from her hands and placed back on the tray.

She turned her eyes up toward Mr. Bell, but seemed to look right through him. "How long?" Her words were a near whisper, "How long does he have?"

"Months, three maybe, four at most. Pity, the strike seemed to be his downfall." Mr. Bell sighed. "Unfortunately all of his money is tied up in new machinery, leaving him with no collateral to secure a new loan."

Margaret took one of his hands in both of hers as he stood above her. "Mr. Bell, please, there must be something that you can do to help Mr. Thornton." She pleaded. "That mill means the world to him." She felt a sickening in her stomach at the thought of a conversation that she had held with Mr. Thornton recently. He had said that he feared that Marlborough Mills was all that he was. The thought of his losing it caused Margaret physical pain.

"Unfortunately, I am no longer able to attend to this type of business, as of Friday, all of my business affairs will be in order, you see, all of my excess funds have been allocated to my heir." Mr. Bell looked down at his God daughter with a knowing smile.

"To me?" She said, finally beginning to understand the situation. "Of course! Is there anything that I can do then, I cannot bear see him fail?" Margaret stood and faced Mr. Bell, feeling vulnerable and completely blind to the situation. The full implications of the mill closing came to the forefront of her mind. Not only would it ruin Mr. Thornton, but hundreds of families in Milton would be without jobs. It shocked Margaret that the plight of the workers struck a chord in her heart only after that of the master had been fully realized.

"That is entirely up to you. I place no stipulations on your gift, as I know that it could be in no better hands." He placed both hands on her shoulders. "I only hope that you are able to acquire some pleasure from the money yourself, Margaret." She paid no heed to his last comment, what was pleasure to her when Mr. Thornton could be facing ruination?

"How do I do it, how can I help him?" She began to pace the floor once more. "Would it be best to speak to Henry and have him draw up papers or something of that sort?" Margaret did not even know where to begin in the realm of business, but she was determined to learn quickly.

Mr. Bell's heart lightened at Margaret's insistence. "That would be a fine and proper way to go about it," He tilted his head toward her and raised an eyebrow. "But it is not the way that I would suggest for you; or the best way for Thornton, if you wish for him to be receptive to it, in my opinion of course." Mr. Bell could easily say that this was the first time he had suggested not using a lawyer to handle any sort of business dealings, but he was certain that this was a very different situation than any that he had been party to.

"What would you suggest, then?" Margaret asked.

"You should go to Milton, as soon as you are able. Thornton has had a run of bad luck, but I still believe him to be a man of sound business sense. Tell him of your new situation, and I believe that he will help you come to the best arrangement." Mr. Bell kissed Margaret on the cheek. "Now, my dear, I will excuse myself to speak to Henry about the transfers. I have called on him, and he should be here by now. He will likely have several documents for you to sign by morning." Margaret simply nodded as she watched Mr. Bell leave the room.

As she ascended the staircase and entered her room, Margaret was assaulted with a rush of conflicting emotions. She would be an heiress by week's end, yet in a few months, Mr. Thornton would have nothing. She thought it strange how differently she saw things now. When her family had moved to Milton, she thought of all people in trade as greedy and undeserving. Now, she only thought of the injustice in the world that a man who had been brought so low once in his life, and with his own two hands overcome every obstacle might have to experience it all over again.

Margaret thought of her own life, she had certainly never done anything to deserve riches, and before learning of Mr. Thornton's hardships, would have never known what to do with excess if she were to ever be financially secure. Margaret leaned against one of the posts on her bed and allowed Mr. Bell's words to sweep over her. He felt it best that she go to Mr. Thornton and make the offer. She did not know the first thing about business or loans. For all she knew, Mr. Thornton would be insulted by her offer of funds. She felt that this would all be so much easier if Henry were to draft a formal agreement and send it to Marlborough Mills. The only problem with that plan was that it would not give Margaret the opportunity to see him, and how she longed to see him.

Margaret had kept to her quarters well into the afternoon, and was wrenched from her thoughts by a knock at the door. Before Margaret could say anything, the door flew open and Edith was within the confines of her little room. Margaret quickly began to thumb through the book that was lying on her bed, thinking that throwing it in the drawer would be too conspicuous, and not wishing for her cousin to see the name emblazoned on the front. As Edith joined Margaret on her bed, she looked down at the book that lay between them. The pages naturally turned to the beginning as some mysterious anchor seemed to part the waters and reveal a treasure within.

With a gasp, Margaret gently reached down and attempted to remove the pressed flower without harming the thin pages that encased it. She held it as though it was liable to crumble to dust at any moment. Edith looked at her curiously.

"What do you have, Margaret? Are you pressing flowers in a bible? You should know better than that, look, you have practically ruined these two pages." Edith said and was astounded to hear Margaret's laugh at her suggestion. Margaret looked down to see the slight brown staining encircle the verse that she had shared with two very important men in her life. As she studied the rose, she noticed the deep indentations around the leaves, and knew that this rose had come from Helstone, that John Thornton had been to Helstone. She did not know why, but her heart soared at this newfound knowledge.

"It is not ruined, Edith, it is quite perfect actually." Margaret did not wish to share this moment with anyone, so she stood, placed the rose back into the book, and the book securely in her drawer, and rejoined her cousin with the widest grin she had worn in quite some time. She wondered how he had gone, when, and why he had not told her about it. Her heart was swelling. For it to be pressed, it must have been before the funeral, but why would he have gone out of his way to visit Helstone, then? Margaret had so many questions, and could simply not wait to ask him.

"Margaret, I could hardly believe my ears when Henry told us of your fortune from Mr. Bell. I cannot believe that my sweet cousin is to be an heiress." Edith was very excited about the news, but was slightly disappointed in the lack of reaction from Margaret.

"It is wonderful news, Edith. I think that I am just letting it all sink in." Margaret could not think about money at a time like this. Her mind was swimming in roses and travel plans. Edith spoke on about all of the wonderful things that a fortune could bring a young lady, many of them revolving around a husband. Margaret laughed at her cousins first thoughts at the news of her newfound fortune.

After some time, the cousins parted with a kiss and several congratulatory wishes from Edith. Margaret was determined to find her Aunt and inform her of her travel plans.

True to his word, Mr. Thornton visited Maria Hale's graveside at least once a week. His first trip was laden with awkwardness. He had never visited a grave before that day, not even his father's, and did not know what was expected of him. On his first venture, he acted much more the role of grounds keeper than visitor. Once he ensured that the headstone was cleaned and flowers were situated nicely, he did not know what more he could do. After lingering for a few minutes, he returned to work, feeling that had certainly not done enough.

One week after his first uneasy visit, Mr. Thornton returned to Mrs. Hale's side. He followed the same ritual as before, but felt an urge to speak.

"Mrs. Hale, this is John Thornton." He stood with his hands behind his back, hat within them and head lowered. "I promised Margaret that I would come to visit you. She is in London now, doing wonderfully, I am sure. Margaret would thrive anywhere." He felt bitterness at his own words, but there was something freeing about speaking of her aloud. He stood, lost in thought at the foot of a Maria Hale's gravestone. Though he had never held a proper conversation with her in life, he had always felt fondness for her. After some time, Mr. Thornton bid his goodbyes, and assured her of his return.

One particularly grey afternoon, Mr. Thornton received a letter from one of his potential investors. Though he had little hope of different news, the contents were devastating. The man simply stated that he had enjoyed meeting Mr. Thornton, however, he could not put money into cotton at this time. The day had been rough, and the news had been a blow, leaving him in need of solitude. He left work, and made haste to the graveyard. After placing the flowers that he had acquired on the way, Mr. Thornton took a seat on the ground and held his folded hands to his mouth, silent for some time.

"Mrs. Hale, it is John again." He sighed for a moment. "I know that you have never cared much for business, so I shall spare you the details. I fear that I may be losing my mill. I hate to admit it, and I do not know that I have up to this point, certainly not aloud. Honestly, it has been looking very bad for some time, but I thought that I would pull through." He leaned his head back as though he were struggling for breath. "I feel as though I am losing everything that I hold dear. You see, without Marlborough Mills, I have nothing. Worse yet, I have no ability to gain what I so desperately need." He could say no more, but it was enough.

Such relief was found from having said the words of his heart aloud. The fulfillment of this promise was much less an obligation than he had once imagined it to be. Mr. Thornton sat a few minutes longer, bid Mrs. Hale goodbye once more and walked solemnly back to his mill.

Margaret entered the formal drawing room and was immediately confronted by a barking Tiny, who she tried desperately to hush her before her Aunt Shaw was stirred prematurely from her afternoon nap. A sigh of relief exited Margaret's lips as the steady snore coming from her aunt remained undisturbed. She picked up her needlepoint and worked for the next half hour. She wanted to settle her plans with her Aunt Shaw as soon as possible.

As Mrs. Shaw's lids fluttered open and smiled at her niece. "Good afternoon, Margaret. I spoke with Henry this morning, and I must say that I am most happy for you my dear. If there is anyone in this world who deserves a comfortable living, it is a girl like you."

"Thank you Aunt, I have come to ask if you know when the auction of my family's things will be held, as I wish to attend." Margaret asked.

"Well, it will be this Saturday, I am fairly certain. Though there is no need for you to be present. Surely Dixon will have all things arranged, she will have had three full weeks to prepare." Margaret had always been a headstrong young lady, but Mrs. Shaw's felt it her responsibility as her new guardian to keep her niece grounded.

"I know that I am not required, however, I wish to go. There are several items that I do not wish to part with. I could send word to Dixon, but it will be easier for me to find them on my own. I also need to speak to someone about one of the properties that Mr. Bell is leaving to me." Margaret paused, and then added, "at his request, of course."

Mrs. Shaw shook her head. "Certainly there is a lawyer or agent that can handle all of your new dealings. I would imagine that Henry could send word, that is a much more practical solution."

Margaret attempted to maintain a level head, and gentle tongue. She disliked having her decisions made for her. "Aunt Shaw, I am afraid that I will be traveling to Milton this weekend, with or without your blessing, but I would much prefer to go with it."

The dear aunt was taken by surprise at Margaret's words. "Well, Margaret, I suppose that if your mind is set on this, that I should respect your request. But, I am certain that Mr. Bell did not leave these properties to you for you to manage yourself." Aunt Shaw said with a stern demeanor.

"Perhaps not, but as I said, Mr. Bell suggested that I take care of this matter personally, and I intent on doing just that." Margaret was proud of her strength in this conversation.

"Very well, then. I must insist however, that you take along a companion. Proper ladies, especially those of means, do not travel alone." Mrs. Shaw insisted.

Margaret sat next to her aunt. "Perhaps I may just travel _there_ alone, Dixon will accompany me on the way back." She knew that this was not likely to appease her aunt, however, she had to try.

"As long you under my guardianship, you will live in the confines of propriety. You may go, but only with a companion." At this, Aunt Shaw felt that she had won her little battle.

"Yes, Aunt." Margaret understood her point, and not wishing to upset her nearest relative, relented to her conditions.

As Margaret made her way to leave the room, her aunt added, "I will speak to Henry tonight to see if he will be able to travel with you." Despite Margaret's best attempts at dissuading her aunt at her choice of a companion, she found the endeavor to be a complete waste of time and energy. Margaret reasoned that this would not change anything. Though Henry's presence would be a hindrance, she would make her business proposal to Mr. Thornton, and oversee the auction as she had originally planned.

Mr. Thornton worked diligently through the noon hour on Friday, intent upon making it to the Hale auction that afternoon. The grounds were open at noon, bidding to begin at two. He did not know what he was going for, but it should not be hard to find something to remind him of its original owner. These past three weeks had been some of the loneliest of his life. When he bid her goodbye for the last time, he had held out hope that he would see or, at the very least hear from her soon. He wanted to know if she was happy, or possibly that she was in same state of despair that faced him every morning when his eyes opened. He did not know which he hoped for her, and cursed himself at his selfishness.

He walked to the house for a bit of nourishment before making his way to Crampton. Mrs. Thornton was shocked to see her son at the dining table, as she had eaten nearly every meal alone for weeks. He had spoken to her the night before about the state of the mill, and she had thought of little else since. As they sat in a companionable silence, Mr. Thornton thought about the rest of his life stretching before him in this manner, the near suffocating silence that surrounded him. This had never bothered him before Mr. Hale's funeral, however, now that he had experienced a taste of what life with Margaret could be like, he could never be satisfied with less. The idea of continuing on in this way, with nothing to look forward to was maddening.

After bidding his mother goodbye, John walked to Crampton. He looked through the many miscellaneous items, but realized that what he had wished to be there simply was not. He had tried to push the idea from his mind, as he felt it ludicrous, but he had truly hoped that Margaret would have come. He had dreamt that he would walk up, holding some non-memorable item, and she would walk down the stairs as she had so many times in the past. He had hoped that she would come and save him from himself, tell him that she would have him, take his hand in hers and promise to never let it go again.

Bitterness overwhelmed him. Not only was she not there, but the second response to the letters that he had sent out over two weeks ago came in this morning. Both men had informed Mr. Thornton that now was not a time that they were willing to take the risk of investing in cotton. He knew that his dreams of happiness and marriage could never be now. Even if Margaret could learn to love him in return, he was no longer in a position to ask her. He loved her far too much to wish a life of struggle upon her. No one could ever love her as he did, but she deserved more than he now had to offer.

The sad reality of the situation hit him as he walked into the bare Crampton home, the many things that made the home so comfortable were either boxed together to make them appear more valuable, or displayed upon tables, all tagged and numbered. Mr. Thornton's eyes caught several boxes at the end of the table, as he thumbed through the contents of the box, he knew that his decision had been made. Now, all that was left was to sit and wait for the bidding to begin.

Mr. Thornton watched as the Hale's furniture began to sell to the highest bidder, bringing in much less than desirable amounts. The only solace that he took in Margaret's absence was that she did not have to witness the shamefully low amounts that her family's possessions were accruing. He watched the items go quickly, when something caught his eye. As the Hale's tea service was held up for display, he was brought back to the many times that he had watched Margaret's delicate hands serve from that very set. His chest tightened as he thought of bracelets on arms and the grazing of fingers lingered in his mind. Before he could help himself, his paddle was in the air. He was bid up twice, but felt that he had paid a fair amount.

After some time, the first of the five boxes that Mr. Thornton was determined to take home was on the auction block. It was described as a portion of a collection of books belonging to a parson and teacher. There was no description of the contents and though they were grouped into separate lots, there seemed to be no reason for the separation outside of the sheer limitations of box size. Mr. Thornton bid on the first four groupings nearly uncontested, but he discovered a problem once the fifth and final lot was presented. Mr. Thornton did not understand the reason, but the last box brought much more interest. He was continually outbid, and found himself so accustomed to raising his paddle, that when the other bidder gave in, Mr. Thornton found himself raising his own bid. There was a bit of laughter from spectators, but he paid them not heed and did not give them a second thought. He felt only satisfaction that he had secured what he had come for.

Letting himself upstairs after the auction had ended, Mr. Thornton spotted Dixon cleaning the bare upstairs rooms. His heart stopped for a moment as he saw the study, a room in which he had spent countless hours, completely vacant. It was as if these walls were readying themselves to house another occupant, and would soon forget the treasures that they had once been fortunate enough to hold.

"Well, hello Mr. Thornton." Dixon said as she took note of her visitor. She seemed much more polite to him than she had been in their most recent meetings.

"Good afternoon, Dixon. I have purchased a few items, and was wondering if I could keep them here until I could arrange for them to be picked up. As it is, I need to get back to the mill, and am not here with carriage or cart." He wanted so badly to ask after Margaret, when she would be back, how she was faring.

"That would be fine, sir. Just put your number on the boxes and bring them up here so as there is no confusion. I would hate to see them make you pay for them for a third time." Dixon said as she laughed heartily. "I have arranged for several other people to pick things up tomorrow and Sunday afternoon."

Mr. Thornton brought the very heavy boxes up the narrow staircase and thought that he should have asked to place them in the kitchen instead. After the fifth box, he had worked up quite a sweat. He found some newsprint that Dixon had used for packing, and wrapped the tea service, placing it in one of the boxes that was not as full as the others. As he made way to leave, he could not help himself, he turned back to Dixon. "Have you heard from Miss Hale, is she faring well in London?"

Dixon leaned her broom against the corner and approached Mr. Thornton. "I have not received so much as a letter from her, but I have had word from Mrs. Shaw, wonderful lady, that she is. She has set me up in a hotel, you know, I am to travel back next week." Mr. Thornton's heart sank.

"That was good of her. Would you send Miss Hale my well wishes when you see her?" Mr. Thornton had no reason to think that Dixon would pass along the message.

Dixon smiled at him, this poor man who had so obviously given his heart to her mistress. "I certainly will tell her, Mr. Thornton." Dixon did like Mr. Thornton, she thought him a good man, and he was very well respected in the area. If the Hales were still living, she might even consider him a good match, but as it was, she felt that Margaret was where she belonged.

Dixon was properly thanked, and Mr. Thornton left the Hale home to return to the mill.

Tuesday through Friday had quite possibly been the longest days of Margaret's life. She knew that she would only have one more sleep before she would see Mr. Thornton, if indeed, sleep would come to her on this night. There was a feeling that had been building within Margaret, and despite trying she could not pinpoint its origin.

During these four days, Margaret had thought of little else besides John Thornton. She began to analyze him in a way that she had never allowed herself to do in the past. Despite her ill treatment to him in the beginning, he had never been anything but kind to her. He had risked himself and his position by protecting her from an inquest, even after he thought her indiscrete. He stood by her family and cared for her mother, furnishing her with any dainty that she could want. Ever since her father's passing, she had had a chance to see him as he is, he had shared his thoughts, his feelings, and he had allowed her to do the same with him. When he asked about what she was going to do after her father's passing, he placed her concerns at the forefront; he wanted her to be happy.

Margaret contrasted Mr. Thornton's treatment of her with her current situation. Those surrounding her certainly care for her, but they never took her wishes, concerns, or feelings into account when making decisions that would affect her. There was something different about Mr. Thornton. He cared for her in a way that she had never known. He was a good man, one who respected her as an equal, and one who had always seen, accepted and understood the part of her that needed to be treated as such.

As she sat on her bed in her nightdress, she surrounded herself by Mr. Thornton's handkerchief, his bible, and the Helstone rose. From the moment that it had been discovered, she had grown more and more attached to the flower, and Mr. Thornton in turn. He was a bit of an enigma. Margaret wondered when and why he had gone to Helstone. She remembered having spoken to him once in her father's study about the extreme differences between Milton and Helstone, she was actually quite discourteous in her comparison. She spoke of roses that practically painted the Parson's cottage; she told him that they were of a variety that she had never seen anywhere else, that they were a beauty that was beyond compare. She also remembered snidely adding that such loveliness would likely not be appreciated in an industrial setting. Oh, how she had treated him wrongly.

It was the thought that he had remembered that conversation that astounded her. The placement of the rose was certainly by design as well. Margaret thought that she may be more impressed that he had truly listened to her than she was by the gift itself. She had grossly misjudged Mr. Thornton, and she could not wait to return tomorrow and right her wrongs.


	13. Obstacles

A/N: Hey all, thank you for all of the kind words; I am sorry that this chapter has taken longer than most. Remember, Reviews make the heart grow fonder!

-Mere

The Funeral

Chapter 13- Obstacles

Henry awoke early Saturday morning and packed his valise and a small travel trunk. He had cleared all of his pressing appointments through Thursday afternoon in order be available to Margaret for as long as she needed him. He had looked forward to their journey all week, however, had been unable to find time to discuss the details with her.

As Margaret and Henry boarded the earliest train to Milton, Henry was certain that he had not seen her quite so cheerful in ages. Henry thought on the reason for his companion's obvious delight, and noted that as of yesterday she was a wealthy woman, and that would put a smile on anyone's face, he was certain. Margaret sat quietly with Mr. Thornton's bible tucked in her lap. She had thought about leaving it, but as it had been her constant companion for three weeks, she hardly felt whole without it. Henry sat directly across from Margaret, the passenger cart otherwise empty. He passed the time with the newspaper as she watched the trees through her window become a blur of brown and green, each one bringing her closer to home.

"You seem very interested in this auction, Margaret." Henry stated, Margaret offered a smile in response. "Your aunt had also mentioned something about some business that you wished to attend to?" Henry asked. Since the day that Mr. Bell had asked to meet at Harley street and explained Margaret's new financial situation, Henry had seen so little of her that he could almost say that Margaret was avoiding him.

"Yes, I have a few items that I wish to ensure do not go into the auction. I have means now, and can afford to keep some items that hold sentimental value." She looked toward him. "I also have business to attend to at Marlborough Mills." Henry narrowed his eyes and focused on her. He folded his paper in half to ensure that nothing obstructed his view.

"Marlborough Mills?" He paused for a moment. "Is that John Thornton's mill?" He asked carefully, his chest tightened as he asked the question.

"Yes it is, Mr. Bell has given me some information about the mill, and I need to speak with Mr. Thornton regarding it." Margaret turned her attention back to the changing landscape, though she had a feeling that this conversation was far from over.

"Mr. Bell has given you business information on which _you_ are to speak to Mr. Thornton?" Henry asked in a steady voice. "Wouldn't an agent or myself, as your lawyer, be a much more appropriate person to address your business matters?"

Margaret turned back toward him and pulled her head back. "Perhaps everyone is not guided solely by what is proper and what is appropriate. Perhaps I am interested in doing what I feel to be right." Margaret's eyes seemed to challenge Henry. His newspaper had now been fully discarded on the bench beside him.

As much as he cared for this girl, she certainly knew how to goad him. Though it was one of the things that had always attracted him to her, he needed to know that he could control this defiant spirit of hers when it mattered. Henry thought on his next words, for it was rare that anything left his mouth without careful consideration. "Is there a problem in the mill, Margaret? I have only just received general financial information, and will not have particulars on your properties until next week."

Margaret lowered her eyes and pulled Mr. Thornton's book tight to her chest, she could not lie to him, he would know the truth soon enough. "Mr. Thornton's mill is failing." Margaret said, all of her energy focused on holding his stare. "Mr. Bell said that he needed a loan, and the bank will not make it, so I am going to." Margaret waited for Henry's dissention.

"There is a reason that the bank will not make the loan, Margaret. Surely they know it to be a risky endeavor. I would certainly advise against this." He paused and leaned closer to her. "You will not speak to him about this now, not until we have the particulars of the situation." Henry spoke calmly, no damage had been done thus far.

"Do not speak to me as if I were a child, Henry. You may not tell me to whom I may speak, and I _will_ speak to Mr. Thornton." Margaret seethed for a moment. "You may not know the particulars of the business, but Mr. Bell said that Mr. Thornton is a sound businessman who has run into some bad luck. I asked if I should consult you first, but Mr. Bell suggested that I speak to Mr. Thornton myself before bringing anyone else into it. I ask that you respect my wishes on this." Margaret's anger had calmed considerably.

Henry knew Bell to be a very shrewd fellow, and could not possibly understand this directive. "I think that it is foolish risk, Margaret."

"Perhaps, but a risk that I am willing to take, Henry. It is my money and I will do with it as I please."

Henry sighed, and allowed himself to formulate his thoughts before speaking. "I will let you speak to him about it first." Margaret began to counter his presumptuous comment, but Henry stopped her and continued. "When he accepts your loan, I will draw up the terms. Do not promise him anything as far as interest-" Margaret interrupted.

"Henry, you can trust that I will leave all of that up to you, if need be." She forced a smile in his direction before looking through the window once more. Margaret decided that she no longer wished to converse, and that the trip would move along much faster, if she could manage to rest for the remainder of the trip. She laid the bible down flat in her lap and leaned against the wall allowing the motion and sounds to rock her to a slumber.

Henry sat across from Margaret and had resumed reading the paper. He had taken note of the book that Margaret had been carrying, yet had not even attempted to read since their boarding some hours ago. It had managed to slip slightly from her loose grip, and not wanting it to crash to the floor, he leaned forward to secure its position. Henry caught some lettering in the corner of the book as he leaned, and he attempted to read what had been imprinted upon the brown leather. Though Margaret's hand partially obstructed the letters, He could clearly make out 'JOHN THO-' and it did not take much imagination to fill in the rest of the surname.

Henry had always prided himself on pushing any negative thoughts from his minds, banishing them from possessing his thoughts. This ability, however, had been lost when it came to Margaret. He began to wonder why she had John Thornton's bible, she was planning on seeing him, and perhaps she was simply returning it to him. That explanation only brought forth more questions, it certainly did not explain why it was with her now. He knew that they had formed some sort of friendship, and while they had been in Oxford, there was something about their demeanor toward one another that had caused him to worry. As they drew closer to Milton, Henry made the decision not to think on this book or that manufacturer any longer, and returned his paper to his lap. Despite his best efforts, the only thing that he read on the remaining leg of the trip were the seven daunting letters sitting in Margaret's lap. His mind revolved around one singular thought: Getting Margaret back to London as quickly as possible.

As the train squealed to a halt, Margaret could barely contain her nervousness. She could picture Mr. Thornton walking the floor of his mill only a few miles from where she sat. The reality of his nearness was enough to undo her. Henry offered his hand to help her onto the platform, as she emerged she was assaulted by the frigid winter air stinging her face. Though it was near midday, one could not be certain of the location of sun due to a combination of industry and harsh weather clouding the sky.

"I believe that Mrs. Shaw may have been correct in her description of this industrial town, Margaret." Henry said as they walked toward a porter. Margaret paid his comment little attention and thought about the day that stretched before her. She wondered if Mr. Thornton would be at the auction, but felt herself silly, as surely he would not be able to attend due to the hour. Henry gave some instructions regarding their luggage, and before she knew it, Margaret was in a carriage on her way to her Crampton home.

"What are our plans for the day, Margaret?" Henry asked, attempting to pull her from her thoughts. Margaret turned to him, not quite knowing how to tell him that not all of her plans involved him.

"Well, we shall meet with Dixon, and attend the auction. I believe that most things will depend on how long that shall last. I have some friends that I would like to see, and I plan to call on Mr. Thornton this evening after he finishes work." Margaret told him plainly.

"Would it not be better for us to go to Marlborough Mills this afternoon? Surely he will be more comfortable discussing business during business hours," He paused. "And in his office." Henry added. He wanted to ensure that this meeting was as brief, controlled and business-like as possible.

"He is a very busy man, Henry. I would hate to interrupt his work day." Margaret said. She secretly hoped that he would come to the auction, and that she would have the opportunity to spend the better part of the day with him.

Henry forced a smile. "Margaret, what you are discussing is a business matter, and therefore would be rightly handled in a business setting."

Margaret shot a harsh look in Henry's direction. "I will propose this in a manner that I see fit. Let us simply see how the auction goes and base the rest of our day around that." Henry decided not to press the subject any further. He had learned that when Margaret set her mind to something, that she would see it through in her own way.

Margaret nearly sprang from the carriage as it stopped in front of her little Crampton home, not waiting for Henry to help her down. She was very surprised that there were no people coming in and out of the house. As she climbed the stairs to the front door, a sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

Margaret opened the door, and her fears were realized. She had somehow, someway missed the auction. Her footsteps echoed through the empty home as she stepped into the front drawing room. The room was completely bare, nothing remained of her family but the papers on the wall that the landlord had reluctantly agreed to change when they had moved in. Henry watched as Margaret ran her hand over the walls, he had attempted a few questions, but she seemed to be in deep thought and in no mood to share it with him. She walked to the downstairs sitting room where there were various pieces of furniture pushed into a corner, all labeled as sold with the new owner's number attached. Margaret touched her mother's china cabinet and tears came to her eyes as she realized that it was gone, all of it.

Henry could see that Margaret was distraught and sought out Dixon, thinking that she may be I the need of some womanly comfort. Soon Dixon's arms were around Margaret who placed her head upon the dear servant's shoulder. Margaret did not cry, but reveled in the feeling of being held. She had shed so many tears over the past month that she feared her well had run dry.

After some time, Dixon pulled from her mistress and said warmly, "Why, Miss Margaret, I certainly did not expect you, today of all days."

Margaret thought that she could hold strong, however, with one more glance around the empty room, tears appeared. She produced a handkerchief from her skirts. "I am sorry, Dixon. Only, I thought that the auction was today. Aunt Shaw said that it would be today."

"It was planned for today up until last week." Dixon said. "The auctioneer had a conflict, and we rescheduled for yesterday. I sent Mrs. Shaw a letter to let her know, I had thought that it would surely make it in time."

Margaret pulled from Dixon's embrace and walked up to her father's study Henry was already standing on the landing, wandering through Margaret's northern home. The three explored the upstairs, speaking of what had once filled the empty rooms. "Where are Father's books, Dixon? Have you already sent them ahead to London?" Margaret asked, wondering where Dixon may be keeping them.

"Pardon?" Dixon replied, not quite understanding what Margaret was asking.

Margaret felt her body stiffen at an unbidden thought. "Father's books, Dixon. Where are Father's books?" There was something in Dixon's face that brought the question forth. "Please tell me that you did not sell them."

"Well, miss, they are right over here," Dixon led Margaret to the five boxes, each labeled 'SOLD-124.' Margaret lowered herself to the floor and opened the boxes to ensure that what Dixon said was in fact true. She felt her heart stop at the thought that her father's most cherished possessions could be bound up into five large boxes and swept into a corner, nearly unnoticed. She knew that soon bidder 124 would come and cart them away to some home that would never know the treasure that they possessed.

Dixon thought on in, and sadly remembered Margaret's request only this very moment, had she remembered before the auction, she would have been certain to hold them for her. "I am sorry, Miss Margaret, but your aunt's instructions were to sell everything." Dixon looked down for a brief moment, and then held her head high as she proudly relayed the next information. "I should say that for a collection of no significant value, they fetched a very fair price."

Margaret was furious. She was so mad that for a brief moment, she could literally not see straight. "My aunt's instructions?" She stood and paced the room. "No significant value?" Margaret placed her hand on her forehead, as it had suddenly begun to throb. "Dixon I asked to keep one thing of my parents, one thing, and you sold it?" Margaret was certainly not yelling, but her voice was raised in what could be considered quite an unladylike fashion. Henry excused himself from the argument and made his way downstairs.

When he arrived at his destination, he walked the nearly bare rooms, and thought on what a difference this place was from his brother's home in London. How Margaret could have ever wanted to stay here over the comfort and luxuries in London was completely beyond him. The inside was quaint, much like their cottage in Helstone, but walking out of the door was an insult on your senses. It had been nearly impossible to get the cab down the street this afternoon. The peddlers and shoe shiners crowded the streets causing such congestions that one did not know which way to walk. Henry was certain that Margaret deserved so much better than anything or anyone in Milton had to offer. He was drawn from his thoughts by a knock at the door and made way to answer it while still hearing the muffled argument that took place above him. The volume ebbed and flowed, but there was no mistaking the anger in Margaret's voice, and he was very content not to be in Dixon's shoes at the moment.

Henry opened the door and stood face to face with John Thornton, the very last person that he wanted to see today, and though he knew that it was inevitable at some point, he had hoped that it would not be so soon. He was met with a look of confusion. Mr. Thornton recognized Henry immediately, but he could not think of a reason for his presence in the Hale's home. The two men stood in the doorway, staring at one another for longer than was comfortable.

"Mr. Lennox." Mr. Thornton began with a tip of his hat.

"Mr. Thornton." Henry replied in turn. He did not want this man anywhere near Margaret if he could help it, and wondered how Thornton knew that she would be there.

Mr. Thornton held his ground, though he was beginning to feel as though he would not be invited in. "Mr. Lennox, I purchased several items in the auction yesterday, and am only coming to collect them." He was still shocked by Henry's presence, but an ember of hope begins to form within him. "What brings a gentleman such as yourself all the way from London? Do you have clients in Milton?"

Henry finally opens the door wide enough to allow Mr. Thornton entry. "No, I certainly would not travel this far north for business. I am here as an escort for Margaret, Miss Hale." Henry added, remembering the formality in Mr. Thornton's speaking to Margaret when they had all been together.

Mr. Thornton's entire face visibly lightened at the sound of her name, causing Henry's eyes to narrow upon him. Mr. Thornton looked up, he was suddenly able to make out her voice. "Miss Hale is here?" He asked with a distant smile.

If Henry had been unsure of Mr. Thornton's attachment to Margaret when he had last met him, all doubts were now set aside. Henry did not answer the question. "What did you find of interest in the auction, if I might ask?"

"I purchased some books." He shook off Henry's question, "Is she upstairs?" He pointed in the direction of the muffled voices. He knew that she was up there, he could hear her.

"Yes." Henry said in a rather curt fashion before continuing in an easy manner. "Some books, you say? Might I inquire as to which books you purchased?" Henry was trying to further delay this obviously eager man.

Mr. Thornton was tiring of this conversation, and about to put a stop to it. "I studied with Mr. Hale, and bid on his collection." Mr. Thornton's eyes had not left the staircase. It suddenly hit Henry that Mr. Thornton had purchased the books that Margaret was so upset over. He had little choice but to send the man up, but did so with the hope that Margaret's anger would transfer from the seller to the purchaser.

"Ah, I heard Margaret discussing those very books with Dixon earlier. I believe that they are boxed upstairs." Henry said with a grin that was anything but genuine.

If Henry had annoyed Mr. Thornton, it was completely forgotten the instant that he turned from him. Without another word, he climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stopped on the landing, his heart racing at the vision before him. He saw her standing with Dixon in the room that had been her Father's study. He was certain that Margaret was more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

Dixon noticed Mr. Thornton first, as most of Margaret's back was to him, gesturing with her eyes. Margaret took the cue and turned. As soon as she saw him, her feet were cemented to the floor. The words that she was in the middle of speaking had fallen from her lips, and all expression was lost from her face. Mr. Thornton smiled in a way that eased all harshness from his features and began to walk toward the two women that stood before him.

Dixon took leave as soon as Mr. Thornton entered the room, which surprised yet thoroughly pleased him. Dixon was more than happy to escape Miss Margaret's wrath. Margaret had nearly forgotten the argument that she had begun, and failed to notice that Dixon had left. She noticed nothing but the man approaching her.

"Mr. Thornton, how did you know that I was here?" She wondered why he was here in the middle of the day, though she could not be more pleased.

He was in arms length of her, and it took everything in him not to reach out and take her into his embrace. He breathed out the words, "I did not." His eyes darted from her eyes to her mouth. "I had no idea, but I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you." She smiled at him. There was evidence of tears on her face, and a handkerchief in her hand. "Is everything alright?" He asked, his words full of concern.

"Yes," Margaret pried her eyes from him for a moment, trying to steady her breathing. "Well, no it is not alright." Margaret gave a nervous laugh, though she felt much more like crying. "It is silly really, do you have a moment?" His presence calmed her, yet she was all nerves, quite the contradiction.

Mr. Thornton smiled at the question. "Of course, I will always have time for you, Margaret." She thought that she would melt at the sound of her name coming from his lips. "I am only here to pick up a few items from the auction." He lowered his head and looked her square in the eye. "You are alright, then?"

"I am," Margaret looked away from the intensity of his stare for a moment, then met it once more. "Especially now." She wondered, given his nearness, if he could hear her racing pulse. "You see, it is the auction that has me so upset. I am afraid that I may owe Dixon an apology at some point, I was rather harsh with her—not sometime soon, mind you." The corners of her mouth eased up. "What is done is done, I am afraid."

"What is done?" Mr. Thornton asked, his velvet tone lingering over the words. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, to never let her out of his sight for another moment. All of his happiness and light was packaged neatly before him, yet he somehow managed to maintain his composure and listen.

"I thought that I was coming for the auction. My Aunt Shaw told me that it was today, and I was devastated to have missed it." Margaret said. "You see, before I left I packed what I wanted to keep in my trunk. My aunt said that everything else needed to go, as I would have no room in my new life for all of those things." Margaret sighed and received a sympathetic smile. "The only thing that I asked of Dixon before I left was that she not sell Father's books. Dixon was so busy preparing for the auction that she forgot." Margaret began to walk toward the back corner of the empty room, Mr. Thornton followed. She motioned toward the brown boxes stacked in the corner, each labeled 'SOLD 124.' Mr. Thornton began to interject, but allowed her to continue, giving her a knowing smile.

"I never wished to part with them." She looked in his eyes, but what she saw stole her breath, and she quickly darted them back to the boxes. "Granted, there are no popular novels or leisure reads amongst them," Margaret glanced up for only another moment. "But, they were what Father treasured most in the world." She sighed. "I suppose that it is some consolation that they are all going to the same place. I would hate to see them scattered here and there." Her body shuddered as she tried to hold back tears. "Though, it would only seem fitting, would it not?" Mr. Thornton understood her meaning, as she had once spoken to him of her little family in the same manner.

Mr. Thornton placed a hand on her upper arm, unable to keep from touching her a moment longer. "Margaret, I do not know if it will be any consolation, but I purchased the books."

"You?" Margaret asked. The warmth of his hand on her arm coursed through her body, making her momentarily forget the books.

"Yes, and you are welcome to any of them that you would like." Unable to help himself, Mr. Thornton took a small step closer. "All of them, if you would prefer." Mr. Thornton smiled down at her. His hand began to travel up her arm to her shoulder, and then up to her face.

The intensity of his eyes caused her breathing to come at an unnaturally quick pace. His nearness was intoxicating. "Well, you already have Father's Plato, and I would hate to see a split between the great philosophers." Margaret's breath caught, but she allowed her hand to find Mr. Thornton's elbow, and followed it up until her hand rested atop his.

From below, Henry began to worry. He had not heard any discourse since Dixon had returned downstairs, and did not wish to leave the two alone for much longer. He pulled his watch from his breast pocket and noticed that it was nearing six o'clock. Walking to the base of the stairs, he called up. "Margaret, it is nearing sundown, we should be going soon."

Henry's voice seemed to break the spell that they had cast about themselves. Margaret pulled her hand from Mr. Thornton's, but did not walk away. He slowly brought his hand back to his side. He looked down, feeling as though something had been ripped from him. The reality of Henry Lennox's presence was sinking in.

"You know that you are always welcome in my home, Margaret. Would you and," Mr. Thornton paused for a moment, as though the words were difficult to form. "-Mr. Lennox stay as my guests? I would be pleased to have you."

"Thank you very much for the offer, but it seems that Henry has already made accommodations for us at a hotel. I believe that our bags are already there." Though he knew that it was all completely innocent, Margaret speaking of 'Henry' and 'our' coupled together in a sentence was enough to drive him mad. Mr. Thornton thought that perhaps he had misinterpreted Margaret's actions from only a moment ago.

Mr. Thornton turned away from Margaret, and said in a somewhat icy tone, "Well, Miss Hale, as it seems that Mr. Lennox has attended to all of your needs quite well, I think that I must bid you goodnight." Mr. Thornton turned without waiting for a reply, jealousy was strangling his heart, and he could not stay.

"Wait!" Margaret exclaimed. Mr. Thornton's feet and heart stopped in unison. He turned to her and waited with bated breath. They could hear Henry pacing at the bottom of the stairway. Margaret could tell that Henry's presence was hurting him, and she had promised herself in London that she would treat him better than she had in the past.

"Yes?" Mr. Thornton asked after giving Margaret ample time to continue. Margaret walked toward him and took both of his hands in her own, causing softening of his features.

"Mr. Thornton, perhaps I should not say this, however, I feel that you deserve to know that Henry is only here at my aunt's request." Her eyes had no trouble holding his now. "There is nothing more to his presence, I assure you." Her eyes searched the depths of his, and within, she found mutual understanding and relief. Somehow, Margaret had said exactly what Mr. Thornton needed to hear at that moment.

"Your aunt's request?" He finally asked.

Margaret smiled and gripped his hands tightly. "Yes, as a travel companion, only as a travel companion. I could not come alone." Mr. Thornton's heart had lightened considerably, but before he could relay his thoughts, Margaret gasped and began to speak rather swiftly.

"Mr. Thornton, I had almost forgotten, I have some business that I need to, well, that I would like to discuss with you." Margaret tried to exude confidence in her voice, but fell short.

"Business?" Mr. Thornton was intrigued, not knowing what to expect, but certainly welcoming anything from her.

"Yes, business. Why do we not go down and have a seat in the drawing room to discuss it." Margaret released his hands, and began making her way toward the staircase. Henry saw her from the railings, and began to make his was up.

"I would like that very much." Anything that would increase their time together was to his liking. He looked around the empty room and added, "But, Margaret, there are no chairs."

Margaret looked around with a little laugh, realizing that everything was indeed gone, save a few stragglers yet to be picked up, and that this is not a comfortable setting to have a serious discussion. "You are right, it would seem. There is no furniture of any kind really." She continued to look about the room as though she had simply misplaced a chair, table or settee. "I-I suppose that we could discuss it tomorrow."

Henry was on the landing once more and interrupted. "Margaret, we will be returning to London tomorrow, in the early afternoon." He informed her, though they had not discussed their travel plans, and she had been told to pack for a three night stay. Mr. Thornton looked at him in annoyance; he would not let Margaret leave so easily this time around, despite the _obstacles_.

"Perhaps we could continue our discussion over dinner. I understand that you have accommodations for the night, but may I ask you to join me for a meal at my home?" Margaret was delighted at the thought of having dinner at the Thornton's, however, she hesitated. Her pause was not out of consideration for Henry, nor any discomfort toward Mr. Thornton or his home, rather, it was out of concern for Mr. Thornton's mother.

"Do you think that your mother would mind the company, it is awfully short notice?" Margaret asked.

"She will be happy to see you, I am sure of it." Despite his smile and most fervent hopes, Mr. Thornton could not fully vouch for the validity of his words.


	14. Opportunities

A/N: I am back! Sorry for the delay. I hope that you enjoy, there is only one chapter left after this one! Please leave some feedback; I love to know what you think! (It makes writing worth it!) 

The Funeral

Chapter 14 – Opportunities

John Thornton, Margaret Hale and Henry Lennox walked through the great green gates of Marlborough Mills each filled with their own form of hesitation. The sun was low on the horizon casting a grey hue throughout the industrial town. Henry was shocked to see that the mill was still up and running, causing him to check his watch as they approached Mill yard. The bustling activity and noise that surrounded them seemed very foreign to Henry, he looked toward Margaret who strangely appeared to be completely undisturbed by the harshness of their surroundings. He had been certain that he and Margaret had been invited to dinner, and did not understand why they would be entering a factory to do so.

"Are we visiting your office prior to dinner, Mr. Thornton?" Henry asked.

"I am sorry?" Mr. Thornton asked, not understanding where the question may be stemming from.

Margaret, however, understood Henry very well, as she remembered questioning her father about the location of Mr. Thornton's home herself. "No, Henry, we are visiting Mr. Thornton's home. It is on the mill property."

"Interesting." Henry interjected, causing Margaret to expand upon her previous statement.

"Father always said that it was very convenient for you, is that not right, Mr. Thornton?"

Mr. Thornton smiled at Margaret. He had always been proud of his home and rarely thought on its location or how others may perceive it. No, that was not entirely true. His mother had always seen to it that he want for nothing, and he had often admitted to himself that there was nothing that could be termed informal or even easy about the common areas. He thought on the stark contrast of his home with the quaintness of the Hale's. He loathed to remember the manner in which Fanny often spoke of their home, namely the noise and the smoke. She had said on more than one occasion that if John were to ever take a wife that he would be hard pressed to convince her to live 'in such a sooty, disagreeable place.' Despite all of this, he was proud of what he had accomplished, though this evening, these thoughts along with Lennox's remarks and cutting looks choked him. He turned to Margaret. "Your father was correct, it is very convenient."

Henry took in the scene before him and could not picture Margaret ever living in such a place. She was certainly no wilting flower, but this was all so rough and foreign. He found himself raising his voice simply to allow his words to travel over the machinery. "Do you not find all of this noise at all," Henry looked up as if the word that he was looking for was painted in the smoke above, "_daunting_?"

Mr. Thornton thought to mention that he would be more than happy to pay for a carriage back to his hotel if Mr. Lennox found the noise just a bit too daunting this evening. "I suppose that I have become accustomed to it." Mr. Thornton's reply showed not the least bit of the discomfort that he felt at having to bring this man into his home.

"Ah, yes." Henry said with a grin, "It seems that there are many things about the north that would take one quite a while to 'become accustomed to." If Miss Hale had not been standing so nearby, Mr. Thornton would have no problem giving this snide southern _gentleman_ a piece of his mind. As it was, he did not want to be another example of the roughness of the north; he would not give into Henry's banter. They were nearly through the mill yard, and something within Mr. Thornton told him that this conversation would most likely not improve once they were within it.

Margaret looked at Henry with a piercing stare. The thought that she had once shared in the same prejudices as Henry, and like him was not afraid to disparage another with smooth words and a smile was almost sickening. "That may very well be Henry, but once you have grown used to such things, it is nearly impossible to imagine yourself anywhere else, would you agree, Mr. Thornton?"

"Whole heartedly." Mr. Thornton replied to her with a warm smile. He could not help but feel that he was making headway in a battle of which he did not previously know himself to be participating.

Margaret could not repress the memories that flooded her mind as they climbed the stairway that led to the Thornton's front door. This was the very threshold where she had proven her bravery to herself, and in doing so, given Mr. Thornton a false impression of her feelings. The events that occurred that day changed both her life and many of those in Milton. Her heart ached when her thoughts were transported to the last time that she had stood in this very spot. She had left Marlborough Mills certain that she would not even have the chance to bid Mr. Thornton farewell, she was uncertain of her feelings, and could not have known that he would do everything in his power to see her once more. She resolved, in that very moment, to leave tonight feeling very differently.

Margaret's remembrances caused her to leave the conversation, which not surprisingly caused a silence to fall upon the trio. As it turned, Mr. Thornton and Henry had very little to say to one another outside of the niceties that were necessary to remain civil. Once they entered the home, Mr. Thornton assisted Miss Hale in the removal of her coat and bonnet, while a servant assisted Henry with the same. They made their way to a grand stairway that led to the upstairs dining room, where Mr. Thornton's mother was almost certain to be situated.

Margaret was at the base of the stairway when, as if in unison, an elbow was offered on either side of her each meaning to assist her up the stairs. Though this entire situation from the moment that Mr. Thornton had entered her Crampton home had felt incredibly awkward, she had not anticipated the depth of her position. Margaret stood between two very worthy men, both of whom had asked for her hand and been refused. In that moment, she knew that she had to make a choice; certainly not between the two men, there was not even a thought toward that end. Margaret could either continue upward on her own, allowing herself to give no illusion to favoritism, nor add possible injury to one of the men in her company, or she could be bold, she could make her preference known, at least in one very small way. Margaret attempted to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat, when with a conscious effort she took Mr. Thornton's arm and was escorted to the second floor.

Henry watched the two walk up before him, feeling the slight. He followed, maintaining his steady composure, despite his feelings otherwise. The pieces seemed to be fitting together and Henry was finding it much more difficult to rationalize Margaret's behavior toward Mr. Thornton. She had given Henry no reason to hope, though hope he had. Henry decided that he would simply have to make it through this dinner, ensuring that he was as attentive to Margaret as possible, and be certain that she was with him aboard the earliest train tomorrow morning.

Mrs. Thornton was replacing some of the embroidery on her everyday linens when she heard the front door open. Though she heard no voices, she could easily make out more than one set of footsteps. She wondered momentarily if Fanny and Watson were perhaps joining them for dinner, for no other reason than to gloat, no doubt. Hannah Thornton found that her feelings toward her only daughter at the moment were not very motherly, feelings which she found herself taking out on the white fabric that lay in her lap, yielding her needle as a makeshift weapon. As she pressed the needle through the fabric, she noticed her son turn the corner with a young lady on his arm. As the woman came into view, Mrs. Thornton's needle made painful contact with her left index finger, drawing blood and most likely ruining the embroidery that she had spent the better part of the evening mending.

Mrs. Thornton bound her finger in a handkerchief that had been tucked away in her pocket, careful as always not to show her discomfort in any outward fashion. She had only just caught her breath when she saw a man enter behind John and Miss Hale. The young man was handsome, though not half as handsome as her John, she thought to herself. He was dressed in a fashion that made her feel that he was certainly not from this little part of the world. Mrs. Thornton's unease was noticeable.

Mr. Thornton released Margaret's arm just before entering the dining room with a smile and slight bow of the head. He led the small party party into the room and noticed that his mother's attention was already focused behind him caused knots to form in his stomach. There was little, if anything, that passed his mother's keen eye, and as he did not fully understand the relationship between his guests, he was certain that his mother would not let Mr. Lennox' presence go so easily.

"Mother, Miss Hale happened to be in town for the day, and I have taken the liberty of inviting her," he grimaced unknowingly before adding, "and her guest to dinner this evening." His eyes found his mother's, and he hoped desperately that she would make an effort to not add to the difficulty of this situation. "This is Mr. Lennox, he is a friend of the Hale family. He travelled with Margaret from London." Mrs. Thornton stood and approached Miss Hale, but said nothing for several incredibly awkward moments.

"I am so sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Thornton." Margaret said in an attempt to fill the silence, she was most certainly regretting her decision to come.

"There is no reason to apologize, Miss Hale. This is my son's home, and his guests are more than welcome." Mrs. Thornton replied all too quickly. She could not help but wonder who this Mr. Lennox was, and why he was travelling with Miss Hale. "If you will excuse me, I must see to our dinner." With a weary look and sigh directed at her son, Mrs. Thornton left the room. Margaret could not help but feel affronted, as she had in every encounter that she had ever had with Mr. Thornton's mother. There was certainly nothing in the words that were spoken that was altogether predatory, however, her delivery was as striking as always.

Mr. Thornton led Margaret and Mr. Lennox into the drawing room. There was a fire blazing in the grate, though it was not enough to counteract the general chill in the room. Margaret took a seat on the settee nearest to the fire, Mr. Lennox, the chair directly across from her. Mr. Thornton excused himself for a moment on the pretense of helping his mother with dinner preparations.

Mrs. Thornton was standing in the kitchen giving orders to servants and the cook. No one aside from the lady of the house seemed particularly distressed over the additional guests. "Mother," Mr. Thornton began, startling Mrs. Thornton, who turned rather quickly. "Miss Hale was at Crampton when I visited this afternoon." He was not finished with his explanation, but his mother approached him, and in a rare moment of physical endearment, placed a hand on his cheek. There had been such strain between them lately that she was going to make a forced effort to keep any disapproval to herself this evening.

"John, you need not explain anything to me. I trust your judgment" Mrs. Thornton said these words, though she was truly did wish for explanations as to what this Mr. Lennox was doing here, if Margaret had mentioned anything about her plans, and if the guests were staying the night. "I have seen to the food, it will only be slightly delayed." With a forced smile she added, "Let us go and make your guests comfortable."

"Thank you very much, Mother." John said as they quitted the kitchen.

When the Thornton's arrived in the drawing room, Mr. Thornton, despite a wide array of seats to go around chose to share the settee with Margaret. This did not go unnoticed by either Mr. Lennox or Mrs. Thornton. Mrs. Thornton took a nearby seat as well. The party sat in silence for some time, none knowing what to say. Finally, Mrs. Thornton took it upon herself to open the gated of communication.

"We will be having roast beef this evening. That is one of John's favorites. The dinner bell shall be ringing shortly." There was no response, and the air in the room continued to feel ripe with tension. Mrs. Thornton continued, thinking that asking a question that required a response may be beneficial. "Mr. Lennox, you have escorted Miss Hale from London?" Mrs. Thornton truly desired to understand the relationship between this man, and the woman that her son had not taken his eyes off of since the moment that they had entered the room.

Henry offered a genteel smile toward the lady of the house. "Yes, Mrs. Thornton, I am well acquainted with Margaret." Mrs. Thornton's eyes narrowed on Margaret at the familiarity that this man seemed to share with her. Margaret had never been prone to fidgeting, but felt her entire being squirm at this introduction. "She had a keen desire to oversee the auction, and I was only more than happy to oblige." He offered a smile in Margaret and Mr. Thornton's direction. Henry felt quite sure that this trip was not made in order to oversee anything, he had wondered on several occasions today if this may have simply been a rouse for Margaret to reunite with Mr. Thornton; it was after all Margaret's aunt that insisted he come. As these thoughts plagued Henry, his smile faded.

"I am afraid that there was little left to oversee by the time that we arrived." Margaret said with a hint of melancholy. Mrs. Thornton could not help but notice the look that passed between her son and the young woman to his right. Their eyes met, and after a shared smile Margaret's returned to her lap.

"You see mother, Miss Hale thought that the auction was today. She came with the express purpose of securing a few items that were dear to her." Mr. Thornton said.

"Miss Hale, why did you not send word, or secure those things before you left." Mrs. Thornton asked. "It seems to me that that would have saved you much trouble, and disappointment as it may be."

"When my aunt came to retrieve me, we left in such a rush that possessions were the last things on my mind." Margaret looked pointedly at Mr. Thornton, "I was quite occupied by other, more important things that I was leaving behind."

"Like your father's books?" Mr. Thornton's face lightened as he asked this question, and Margaret was quite certain that he was teasing her.

"Precisely, Mr. Thornton." Margaret said with the hint of a laugh. They spoke to one another as though there was no one else in the room. Mrs. Thornton turned her attentions to Henry, who was staring at the pair seated across from him.

"Mr. Lennox," Mrs. Thornton asked. "What is it that you do in London, if I may ask?"

Henry wore his smile proudly. "I am a Barrister, Mrs. Thornton. I have a sound position in a London firm." He turned his attentions to Mr. Thornton. "I deal in financial and other _sound_ business dealings; in fact, I am working very closely with Margaret on-"

"We need not go into such things now, Henry." Margaret interrupted, shooting a look in his direction that he did not quite understand. He desisted, as it became obvious that Margaret was going to share her information on her terms. Mr. Thornton was intrigued by the interaction that had just played before him.

Mrs. Thornton, who had taken to watching the interactions between those in her drawing room, was once more disturbed by the familiarity shared by her John's guests. "Might I ask how you know Miss Hale, Mr. Lennox?"

Before Henry could answer, the dinner bell rang causing the party to stand. Mr. Thornton offered his arm to Miss Hale and escorted her to the seat to his right. "Thank you, Mr. Thornton." Margaret said as he delivered her to the dining room. With a nod, everyone took their seats.

"You were asking how I know Margaret, Mrs. Thornton." Mr. Lennox continued the previous conversation, his eyes bouncing between the two ladies during his speech. "You see, my brother is married to Margaret's cousin, Edith. When Margaret lived in London we grew close. I believe that I am to credit for maintaining her sanity while she was assisting Edith with her wedding preparations. We are," Henry paused, "good friends." He looked at Margaret with a look that made her wish that she were in any other company at present. The tone in Henry's voice spoke volumes and left a silence in the room that was uncomfortable at best. She turned her eyes to Mr. Thornton, whose stare now seemed to her somehow vulnerable.

Mrs. Thornton most decisively did not like this man. She decided that she would address her questions elsewhere, and had begun counting down the minutes until this night would end.

"Miss Hale, I did not know that you lived in London." Mrs. Thornton said this, and turned her attention to John, who was unabashedly staring at Margaret.

"Yes, I lived in London with my aunt for nine years before moving to Milton." Mrs. Thornton seemed confused. "I spent my first nine years with mother and father in Helstone, but mother felt me too wild from the forest. She was determined to make a lady out of me." Margaret allowed her eyes to meet Mr. Thornton's before blushing and turning her attention back to his mother. "They sent me to live with Edith. I was properly schooled and socialized under my Aunt's roof at Harley Street. Holidays were always in Helstone."

"Helstone is an idyllic place." Henry chimed in. When Henry said this, unbidden memories flooded Margaret of the one time that Henry visited her in Helstone.

Margaret turned her attentions in full to Mr. Thornton. "Mr. Thornton, what did you think when you visited Helstone?" Both his mother's and Henry's eyes were on him in an instant. Mr. Thornton's attentions met Margaret's. His eyes penetrated hers, and he made no pretenses that he was talking to anyone but her.

"Mr. Lennox's assessment is correct. The short time that I was fortunate enough to spend in Helstone allowed me to understand a bit more about Margaret." She offered him a smile, and held his stare with equal intensity. "The wild abandon of the forest meeting the structured propriety of the city, if you will." Margaret blushed wildly and hoping that no one would notice she turned her attention to her food, studying it carefully as though her appetite had just returned in spades. Margaret was noticed.

As Mrs. Thornton watched their exchange, she could see the affection that her son held for Miss Hale, moreover, his care appeared to be reciprocated. There was a swell of undefined emotions that raced through the matriarch of the Thornton household.

"When did you go to Helstone, Mr. Thornton?" Henry asked.

"I had business to conduct in Harve two months back. On the way home, I bought a ticket to Helstone. Margaret had spoken so fondly of it, that I thought that I would like to see such a wonder for myself." Mr. Thornton said.

"And what did you find?" Margaret asked.

"Beauty beyond compare." Mr. Thornton smiled at Margaret, and she knew in an instant that he was referring to her description of the rose from so many months ago.

Through the remainder of the dinner hour conversation commenced, it was benign though very enjoyable. Mr. Thornton was surprised to find that he did not feel jealousy toward Henry Lennox as he had in the past. He was not certain if he could lay claim to Margaret's heart, but he knew that if her attentions tonight said anything, that Henry Lennox most certainly did not either.

When the party retired to the drawing room, Margaret contemplated exactly how to tell Mr. Thornton of her business proposal. She preferred to share the news alone, however, she did not see a way for that to happen. Margaret took a seat on the settee with Henry following close by, claiming the spot beside her. Mr. Thornton sat in a nearby chair, and Mrs. Thornton picked up her embroidery and placed herself within earshot.

Both Mr. Thornton and Henry Lennox seemed to vie for Margaret's attention. Mrs. Thornton may have been slightly biased, but she did not see any affection from Miss Hale's toward Mr. Lennox, though he proved to be very interested homself. She listened closely to the conversation to see if her thoughts were correct on the subject.

"Miss Hale, are you planning to return to London tomorrow?" Mr. Thornton asked.

Margaret turned her attentions to Henry. "Henry, could we not stay a few more days?"

"I am afraid not, Margaret. I will certainly be needed back at work on Monday." Henry merely stretched the truth, if he were to be in London on Monday there would certainly be work to be done.

"Well, Miss Hale, you had said that you needed to speak to me, something about business." He looked at her with a weak smile. "I do not know when we might have another opportunity."

Margaret looked around the room and though desperately of a way to excuse them, but it was to no avail. "Yes sir, I do have something that I would like to discuss with you." This statement was not followed by any further attempts at conversation on Margaret's part.

Henry watched their interactions closely, and Mrs. Thornton watched his with equal interest. It was obvious that whatever Miss Hale wished to discuss, that she would prefer to do so in a more private manner. She did not know what the girl could want to speak to him about, but she was certain that John had several things that he needed to discuss with her.

Mrs. Thornton remembered the bank documentation that they had received regarding their current loan for machinery. She fully understood it, however she could certainly use it to her son's advantage this evening. "Mr. Lennox, you have said that you are a lawyer, I wonder if you would allow me to ask a few questions over a business document." She shot a look to John that only he, as her son, could fully understand. He had never felt quite so grateful to his mother. Henry reluctantly agreed, it would be rude not to assist, but at the same time he dreaded leaving Margaret alone with John Thornton.

As he heard the click of the door closing behind his mother, Mr. Thornton could not help the rising of the corners of his mouth. He turned to Margaret. "I have something that I must discuss with you as well."


	15. As It Should Be

A/N: Many heartfelt thanks to all of you who have kept up with this story and for encouraging me along the way. Enjoy the last chapter!

_As he heard the click of the door closing behind his mother, Mr. Thornton could not help the rising of the corners of his mouth. He turned to Margaret. "I have something that I must discuss with you as well."_

Mr. Thornton knew that he had a very small window of opportunity to speak frankly to Margaret. He knew that if he did not broach this subject now, he may never have another chance.

"Do you?" Margaret returned with a nervous breath. "I am interested in hearing you, if you will just allow me a moment to get this out before they return." She did not like the idea of having to present this plan before Henry, or even worse, his mother. Margaret could not anticipate how Mr. Thornton would react to her proposition if it was brought up between the two of them, but with an audience, she was even less certain.

"Please, Miss Hale, I am not sure when I will have another opportunity to say what I must tell you." Mr. Thornton began,

"I feel the same. I am leaving in the morning, and do not know when I will see you again." She felt her heart race at the thought of the uncertainty that lie before them.

"Precisely, this must be said tonight. I need to say—that is, what I am trying to tell you-" the words trailed off toward the end causing him to pause for just a moment to collect his thoughts.

"But, Mr. Thornton-" Margaret tried jump in once more. She could not fathom why he was making this so difficult for her.

"Wait." Mr. Thornton was firm yet undemanding. He stood and walked to join her on the settee. "I apologize for my rudeness in interrupting you, but I fear if you stop me now, I shall never have the courage to continue."

Margaret drew in a deep breath, "Then by all means, continue."

"Margaret, the mill is not doing well." He lowered his head after his utterance; it was as if his strength had fled his body alongside his words.

"Mr. Bell told me of the difficulties."

"Did he?" Everything in his manner stiffened when he heard her words, it was obvious that this information upset Mr. Thornton. He was not ashamed of his situation, as he was certain that he had done everything in his power to deter it, but he hated the idea of his failure being the subject of idle gossip amongst the privileged.

"He did. That is precisely why I wish to speak to you, it is a business matter regarding the mill." Margaret felt that whatever he had to say would be much easier if she told him of her inheritance.

"Margaret, please let me say this, I _need_ to have my say." There was something of desperation in his eyes; she could not deny him—not any longer. Margaret simply nodded by way of a reply. "I mean to tell you that—how do I say this." He took her hands in his own and pulled them to his lap. "I have given every part of myself to that mill. I did it to get to where I am in my life, in my business. I did it for my family. Marlborough Mills has never just been a factory. All of my personal accomplishments are wrapped up in my position, all of my worth. Being the Master of my own mill is the best thing that I have ever done." He looked up at the ceiling, and Margaret angled herself toward him, his knees brushing her skirts. "The way that I have always lived my life, conducted my business, everything has been with the mill in mind." Mr. Thornton felt as if he had to gasp for air. Margaret wanted to tell him her piece and end his misery, but she thought better than to interrupt him once more.

"After I met you, I came to realize that I could lose the mill," he stifled a bitter laugh. "I am losing my mill," In a near whisper he added, "but I cannot live without you." Mr. Thornton grasped her hands tightly. "I only wish to say that I was a fool when I first asked for your hand," he freed a hand and cautiously brought it to her cheek, the need to touch her was overwhelming. "But I know that I would be an even bigger fool if I let you leave once more without telling you how I feel." He paused, he had never been one of those men that had an ability to say just what needed to be said at any given moment, but the words that he had were his own. "In a few months, I will have nothing to offer you." Margaret smiled, and he leaned in, his blue eyes piercing hers.

"Margaret," she could feel his breath as he spoke. "I have nothing to offer you, nothing but my heart, and that seems like such a small thing indeed." Mr. Thornton closed his eyes, he was swallowed in the intensity of the moment. Margaret placed a hand on the left side of his chest. She could feel it beating, hard and strong, beneath her touch.

"It does not seem such a small thing to me." Margaret's voice was a near whisper. Mr. Thornton sat up slowly, his hand still caressing her face.

`"Margaret, if I could only have you, losing the mill would be nothing. There is not a thing in this word that could make me happier. I would know that I could overcome any obstacle because I would have you by my side." Relishing her touch, he allowed his hand thumb to brush over her lips before pulling from her. Standing, Mr. Thornton moved to the mantle, allowing it to bear his weight. "Only I cannot ask you, it would be unfair."

Margaret stood and walked to him, she placed her hands on his shoulders. She could not imagine what he must be feeling, but she needed to help him, she would help them both. "What can you not ask me?"

Mr. Thornton turned to face her, causing her hands to rest about his neck. "Margaret?" He breathed out her name as they stood dangerously close to one another.

"John?" It took much less effort than she had imagined to say his Christian name, and there was something about it that was freeing. They were both overcome with emotion.

"Say it again." She could feel his breath warm against her mouth

"John." His next breath was long and staggered.

"Margaret, there is nothing in this world that I love as I love you." He allowed one of his hands to settle upon her waist. He could not believe the intimacy that she was allowing him. There were no words spoken for an eternity, but when the silence was broken, the spell that had affected them both seemed to only deepen.

"What can you not ask me?" Margaret asked once more.

He reached around his neck and brought both of her hands between them, holding them safely within his own. "I simply wished to know if you would do me the honor, the great honor, of being my wife."

"Yes." Margaret smiled.

"Did you say-"

"Yes, I said yes, John. I would be honored to be your wife." He laughed and pulled her to him, resting his head on top of hers. She fit into his arms so naturally that in that moment he felt sure that God had created them for one another.

"I love you, Margaret. I think that I always have." John pulled from her, only enough to see the light in her eyes, and wondered if she was as overcome as he was.

"John." Margaret whispered. She brought her hand to his face, allowing her thumb to caress his jaw. His lips move closer, so close she need only tip her head forward to touch them.

Margaret took in a deep breath before lifting her head as he bent slightly to meet her. His lips lightly, reverently descend upon hers, tentative at first, but then again and again in a manner that was both gentle and firm. John was lost in a feeling that he had only imagined. He could not believe that only this morning he had truly thought that he may never see her again. Moving his fingers to her neck, he relished the feel of her bare skin beneath his touch.

Margaret had never known such joy and warmth, nor been inspired with such feelings as those that were coursing through her body at present. John's bottom lip separated Margaret's causing her to emit a slight gasp. She allowed herself to become lost in John's pleasurable and highly presumptuous attentions. Her willingness intensified both John's passion and the intensity of their caress. John reluctantly tore his mouth from hers and stared at her in utter wonderment, both breathless. She had never been so beautiful.

He needed to know that she understood what this, what a life with him would mean. John knew that he could live without Margaret no sooner than he could live without air, but he would rather die without her than live knowing that she was unhappy.

"Margaret, you realize that I am asking you to cast your lots with mine. It is not fair to you, I know, but I promise that with you by my side, I can pull out of this, we can pull out of this. We will find somewhere to live, and I have no doubt that you would make it into a wonderful home." He steadied his footing and looked at her squarely as if preparing himself for the worst. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" She gently stroked his hair. "I love you. I would love you the same whether you were rich or poor." Margaret brushed her lips against his before continuing. "But John," Margaret smiled, "we will not have to leave this house."

His features fell. "No, Margaret, we will, I cannot afford to keep the lease. That is a certainty." Disappointment struck. John was beginning to see that she did not understand the gravity of the situation. What was he thinking, asking her to be a poor man's wife?

"There is no need for a lease." Margaret's smile widened. "I own Marlborough Mills." John pulled from her, placing his hands on her shoulders and stared in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"That is what I have been trying to tell you, though I suppose that your proposal makes mine rather obsolete." Margaret said laughing. John looked at her as though she had just begun speaking in tongues.

"Margaret, I am not following you at all." She took his hand and led him back to the settee. Excitement was not a strong enough word to express what Margaret felt about sharing Mr. Bell's gift with John.

"Mr. Bell came to me last week. He has decided to leave the majority of his money and properties to me." Margaret said with a gleam in her eyes. She waited for John to speak, but he was not forthcoming. "I tried to tell you earlier, but you would not hear it."

"He has-" John just stared at her for a moment. "You mean that Marlborough Mills is-" He could not complete a thought, much less a sentence.

"Marlborough Mills is mine, soon to be yours now."

"Mr. Bell gave it to you?" John's could not make sense of it. "Why?"

"He is very ill I am afraid. He has no children and I am his God Daughter." She looked up at him. "I think that this business proposition may very well have been his way of pushing us together."

"What was the business proposition?" John asked.

"I have a substantial amount of money that I wished to invest in Marlborough Mills. I asked if we should have papers drawn up, and Mr. Bell suggested that I bring the information to you, and—let me think—he said that I should bring the information to you, and that you would help me come to the best solution." Margaret paused. "I for one think that we have arrived at the absolute best solution."

"You wished to invest in Marlborough Mills, even if we were not to marry?" John was still soaking in the information.

"Yes," Margaret teased, "You aren't changing your mind now, are you?"

"My mind has never changed. My heart has always been yours." John pulled her close to him, and Margaret rested her head upon his chest, his heart was racing. She picked up his left hand and laid it in her lap, lifting the sleeve slightly to expose his wrist, Margaret lightly rubbed her fingers along the tender skin. For the second time, John was amazed at the effects that one little finger on his wrist could cause. They sat with one another in contented silence, neither feeling the need to speak for some time.

"Mr. Thornton," Margaret began hesitantly, John was quite aware that his name had changed once more. "Might I ask a question of you?"

"Anything." John returned without a moment's thought. Margaret gave him an arch smile and opened her mouth as though to speak. She decided against teasing remark until John pressed her. "What is it Margaret, what were you going to say just now?"

"I was simply going to remind you that you have given me leave to ask you _anything _once before, upon which you avoided my query and our lovely conversation ended." Margaret knew that her point was not entirely fair, as his question may have revealed much more of himself than he felt that he could at the time.

"The evening in Oxford?" Margaret nodded. "Your question about the inquest?" She nodded once more. John inhaled deeply. "I will answer your question, both if you would like, but only under one condition." John tried to maintain an air of seriousness, but this evening simply would not have it.

"I believe that I must hear the condition before I agree to it," was her saucy reply. He laughed at her, thinking how interesting and different and wonderful his life would soon be.

"My condition is simply that you never again call me 'Mr. Thornton' in our private dealings. You used my name several times earlier, and I must admit that I was becoming quite accustomed to it."

"I agree to your terms," Margaret could not suppress her smile. "John."

"You may ask me anything that you wish." His answering grin transformed his face, and Margaret reflected that one of her most important goals in her new life with him would be to induce him to smile much more often.

Margaret allowed herself a deep breath and focused her eyes upon John's wrist which was still receiving attention from her delicate taper fingers. "I simply wished to ask—" She could not seem to voice the words that were to follow. "I was wondering—" Margaret did not know why this was so difficult.

John lifted her chin with his free hand and made her eyes meet his. "What can you not ask me?" Margaret's heart quivered at his use of her words from earlier this evening. His smile had turned serious, and the intensity of his stare made Margaret think that speaking was unnecessary, she was certain that he could read the words upon her heart.

"Why were you so good to me in Oxford? That is to say, after my behavior, or your thoughts of my behavior at Outwood Station last autumn, not to mention the abominable way in which I spoke to you at after the riot… What made you retain your esteem for me, when by all rights you should have despised me?" Margaret continued to hold his gaze. There was a silence that made Margaret almost regret the question.

"To be honest," he finally answered, "I cannot completely answer your question. After the riot I wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened, but in the same thought, I knew that I would not have acted differently if I had it to do over again. I continually placed myself in your path, I needed to be in your presence." Mr. Thornton sighed and allowed himself a moment of reflection before continuing.

"When I saw you at Outwood, I wanted to think the worst of you, I wanted to despise you, but it did not exactly happen in that manner." He smiled sardonically. "To answer your question from Oxford, when the police inspector made me aware of your falsehood, I did not know what to think. I did not know the circumstances or motivations, but I knew that I would sooner lose my standing in this community, my livelihood, my freedom, than have you go through the embarrassment of a trial. I knew from that moment that if I could do anything for you, I would, despite the consequences." Margaret blushed, she was astounded by the constancy of John's regard.

"Oh John." Shame filled her face. "And when I came to your office?" Margaret asked quietly.

"That is much easier." John said. "That was the first moment in our acquaintance that you needed something, anything from me—at least anything that you were willing to ask for. You came to me. You welcomed my nearness. I loved you Margaret. I loved you despite harsh words and mysterious strangers. I loved you, and have never stopped loving you." He lifted her hand and placed his lips on the inside of her wrist before carefully returning it to its previous employment upon his. "That is the answer to it all. I continued to love you because I could not stop. I helped you because I loved you."

"It would seem that Mr. Bell knew what was good for us after all." Margaret's hand slid up from John's wrist until her fingers mingled between his.

"He spoke to me about trying you in Oxford. It was too soon, I think. I would have liked nothing more, I assure you." John thought for a moment before looking up at her. "It was too soon, was it not?"

"I am afraid so. With my father—I simply could not read my heart. It was not until I found myself miserable in London that I discovered my true feelings. Oh, how I regretted leaving. I thought that I had made the biggest mistake of my life, I suppose that I did." Margaret smiled at John with a tinge of embarrassment.

"You came back. That is all that matters. You will be mine soon, and I yours." John did not see a reason to share the despair in which he lived the past weeks, not now. His mind and heart were much more inclined to think toward the future.

"I did." Margaret leaned against his chest. "When Mr. Bell told me that you could lose the mill, I just—I cannot explain how I felt. The thought of your suffering was unbearable." Margaret was enjoying their intimacy, and was aware that it could end at any moment.

John thought of what would cause him to truly suffer. "Margaret, are you still planning to leave tomorrow?" John asked into her hair, reveling in their quiet communion.

"I don't think that staying in Milton would please Aunt Shaw or Edith or Henry." She allowed her eyes to meet his. He wanted so badly to say 'but it would please me.' John realized that he was soon to be Margaret's husband and that they had overcome the point of hiding their emotions and feelings. These past months were wrought with misunderstandings and hushed feelings, and that time had gone. He brought his eyes to her fingers, watching them hypnotically move over his skin.

"But it would please me." John's voice was a near whisper. "You have no idea how much it would please me."

"Oh John, I never should have left you before." He allowed his gaze to meet hers once more. "I was scared of what I was feeling and doing what I thought to be right by my family." Thinking over her words, Margaret realized that she had put some misguided duty before her own happiness.

"And now?" John asked, his voice was silk, Margaret was lost in it. "What do _you_ want, Margaret." They were both aware that he had asked this very question on a previous occasion, only now Margaret had an answer.

"I want this. I never wish to leave your side again." Margaret's breath caught under the intensity of his stare.

"Then you will stay?" He needed an absolute confirmation.

"I will stay."

With that, John had everything that he had ever wanted sitting before him, staying with him, offering herself, her heart to him. Without reservation, he pulled her into him and joyfully crushed his lips to hers. Margaret's hands explored his angular face, sank into his dark locks. With one of his hands he caressed the back of her neck while the other snaked its way about her waist and pulled her in as close as he could in their seated position. He surrounded her. He was her everything. Nothing else mattered. With her eyes closed, the lines that had so clearly distinguished where Margaret ended and John began seemed to blur and dissolve until there was nothing left but oneness.

After the kiss, Margaret brought her head to his chest once more. She was breathless.

"Margaret, you were not hoping for a long engagement, were you?" John was trying desperately to remember how long one must wait to marry after procuring a license.

"I only wish for a simple wedding, one that does not require much time to plan, certainly." Margaret felt a strange nervous sensation within herself, speaking with John, with _her_ John, about their wedding. "When would you wish to get married?"

"Tomorrow afternoon at the latest." Margaret pulled from him and laughed, not so much at his words as to the expression of seriousness that was plastered upon his face.

"I am afraid that it may be a bit longer than that." Margaret took his hand in hers. "We mustn't wait too long, though. I am certain that it would be easier to handle the investment in the mill if it were in your name."

"Margaret, I assure you that my wish to make haste toward our wedding has nothing to do with finance, investments or Marlborough Mills." The look in his eyes reflected only a fraction of the love in his heart. "I have a feeling that any moment now I will wake up from the most wonderful dream that I have ever had. I will keep my mill, and the woman that I love, that I have loved, has agreed to be my wife."

"Wife?" Margaret and John turned to the door which they had not heard open and saw both Henry and Mrs. Thornton enter the room. Henry repeated himself once more "Wife? Margaret?" He looked toward her as though in disbelief.

Margaret stood and waited for John to do the same. John placed his hand on the small of her back and spoke. "Mr. Lennox, Mother, Margaret has agreed to be my wife." Margaret could sense Henry's disapproval, but could not bring herself to keep the smile from gracing her face.

"I see." Henry said. "I suppose that congratulations are in order." The lover in Henry that wanted to implore Margaret not to make any hasty decisions, to return to London, and in no uncertain terms to _not _marry John Thornton. The gentleman in Henry told him that this was the turning point, that he had given it his best and that it was time for him to bow out gracefully. The gentleman prevailed.

Henry turned to Margaret. "Well, Margaret, it is getting late. I think that I am going to be on my way to the hotel. Are you ready to, or, well, you must have things to discuss with your—" The break in Henry's voice was nearly imperceptible, but he could not continue. He turned his attentions to Mr. Thornton. "I am sure that I can trust you to see Margaret safely back?"

"Of course." John answered.

"Then I will be on my way." Margaret left John's side, not knowing what to do or say that could possibly improve this situation, spare their friendship.

"Henry," She began.

"Goodbye, Margaret." With that, He was out of the door. The kindest thing that Margaret could do for Henry was to let him leave. Margaret stared at the closed door for several moments before she turned back to John and his mother. She could not help the momentary dread that coursed through her being. She realized that it was not heartache, far from it actually. Margaret's pain stemmed from her empathy mixed with a tinge of guilt at her current happiness.

John and Mrs. Thornton took note of Margaret's countenance and both were fairly certain that they could surmise the relationship that existed between Henry and the young lady before them. Offering a smile, Margaret walked back to John, who suggested that they return to the sitting room.

"I think that I will allow the two of you some time together." She offered a questioning look toward her son. "Do not keep Miss Hale out too late. I should be awake when you come in." She began to leave the room but turned back once she reached the doorway. "I am happy for you," she began to turn, completing her exit, but added quietly, "for both of you." With that, John and Margaret were once more alone.

On the short walk to the hotel, Margaret and John spoke of everything and nothing, marveling at how well they enjoyed each other's company. As John bid his fiancé a good night, he did so without regret, but rather in perfect happiness. Knowing that soon they would never be separated again made this temporary departure possible. He knew that people were not meant to feel such perfect happiness and wondered how he could possibly be the exception. He could not help but replay the events of their arduous relationship through his mind.

It had been eighteen months since this rare beauty had captured John's attention. A year ago he was refused. Only a mere month had passed since a tragic loss had brought the possibility of new hope. Yesterday he sat in despair. Today was perfection. John did not know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he would stand in its wake with Margaret at his side.

Everything was forgiven. Everything had changed. Everything was as it should be.

Thank you for sticking with me through the end.

**If you liked the service, please tip your waitress! Comments wanted! :0)**


End file.
